


paradise lost

by hyuckheis (johnyongs)



Series: everybody has secrets [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: AU-typical violence, And all the things that come with it, M/M, Mafia AU, Power Dynamics, Service Top Yukhei
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-28 22:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20785826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnyongs/pseuds/hyuckheis
Summary: once upon a time, there was a prince in a towerhe isn't supposed to get a happily ever after





	1. sixth sense

**Author's Note:**

> i would like to direct your attention to yukhei's [superm bts photoshoot vid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57KP9eDsHyA), which lit a fire directly under my ass
> 
> i wanted to try something different, and maybe work out of the major writer's block i've been in
> 
> you know the drill ~don't like, don't read~ 
> 
> [paradise lost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4i32ANEa5mk)
> 
> [sixth sense](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIqkDBsSJOw)
> 
> [everybody has secrets](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lD5STtoEGG4)

A bubble of laughter, the clinking of glass. Heeled shoes clacking on shiny marbled. A familiar, yet unidentifiable lull of a piano melody weaves between the ambient noise. Long tables draped in lace cloth are piled high with caviar and champagne. Diamonds and pearls and sequins reflect off the crystal chandelier, mixing with the sharp tailored edges of bespoke suits and shined leather. 

Yukhei’s never felt more out of his element. 

He tips back what is likely his fourth glass of crisp, cold champagne, and sets the empty glass near a vase that likely costs more than what his life is worth, scanning the room for anything, anyone. 

The steel grey three-piece suit he’s wearing was designed by someone whose name he can’t pronounce, and despite it being tailored to perfection, the collar sits tight against his throat, the fabric constricting around his biceps and thighs as he moves. Yukhei looks more put together and dapper than he ever has in his life, but he feels more like a monkey putting on a show. 

He would have felt better if he still had his pistols tucked into his blazer, but security had taken them without so much as a blink before he’d been granted access beyond the gilded double doors. 

A waiter passes by with a tray full of ruby red wine, and Yukhei plucks one up, ready to empty its contents, before a warm hand settles on his lower back. 

“Easy there kid,” Johnny murmurs, just close enough for Yukhei to hear. His voice is low, serene, undercut with the slightest hint of warning, and Yukhei gulps. 

“Sorry, I’m just… it’s a lot,” Yukhei manages to say. He feels like a little boy being chastised by a parent, despite their matching height and stature. 

“I know, but you need to get it together, fast.” Johnny’s voice is not unkind, but it reminds Yukhei of why he’s here, what he needs to do. He can’t afford to lose his nerve at the Lee family mansion. 

“Yeah, sorry.” Yukhei nods, gripping the stem of the wine glass, determined not to take a single sip. “What should I do?” 

“Just stick with me for a second. And relax.” Johnny has a hand in the pocket of his dark slacks, elegant and intimidating in an emerald velvet suit jacket and hair coiffed to perfection. Johnny’s been in the game for years-- five, Yukhei recalls-- so he knows what he’s doing. Yukhei takes a page out of his book and forces his shoulders to relax, to paint an easy smile on his face. 

Less than a minute later, they’re approached by a woman, petite and elfin in looks, though her wide eyes and innocent beauty are curtailed by the grim set of her mouth. “Johnny,” she says, voice lower than Yukhei anticipated. 

“Joohyun,” Johnny says, voice warm, but laced with deference, as he pulls Yukhei forward. “This is my cousin, Yukhei. He recently graduated and wants to go into the family business.” 

Yukhei offers his hand and Joohyun takes it daintily, maintaining contact for only a moment. “Pleasure,” he says, feeling entirely too intimidated by someone half his size. 

“A little baby bird,” Joohyun remarks quietly, not exactly an insult, but Yukhei’s throat bobs regardless. “Good luck to you.” Her smile flits to Johnny, then back. “Not everything is as it seems.”

Yukhei can’t tell if it’s advice or a warning, but Joohyun is drifting off before anything else can be said. Yukhei stares after her, once again feeling completely out of his depth. 

“Don’t be fooled by her size. She’s killed more men than everyone in this room,” Johnny says, hiding a smile behind the rim of his glass of scotch. Yukhei blinks a little stupidly, and decides that the new revelation isn’t actually all that surprising. 

It sinks in properly, then, where Yukhei is. 

The Ruby Dragon is, by far, one of the most infamous mafia families in the country. Their roots are widespread, their people injected in every echelon within society. Its downfall has been attempted by many, to no avail. For all intents and purposes, Yukhei is just another do-good agent, sticking his neck out for a crusade that will likely end in his death. 

The only difference is that Yukhei very much intends on bringing the Ruby Dragon down. 

His department has been playing the long game for a while now, the plan carefully and meticulously laid out, secrets kept under wraps because no one could be trusted. Yukhei is the final piece of the puzzle, and he intends on following through his duty. 

There are many reasons why Yukhei had been chosen by the team to go undercover, despite only being on the force for a handful of years. His unflinching optimism, his grit, and his conviction had made him a standout agent in the past. 

It was, however, his unparalleled ability to adapt that made him perfect for this job in particular. And he remembers this, in the moments after he’d stewed in his discomfort and decided he hated that feeling. Yukhei Wong can charm the pants off of anyone, and he’ll be damned if he lets nerves get in the way. 

  


∞

  


An hour later, he’s acquired a small group of admirers, who mill around him as he regails them with stories of his misadventurous youth (mostly made up). Raucous laughter fills the space of the opulent ballroom, suddenly far more lively and warm than before. 

Yukhei feels in his element, despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that the woman in the sapphire dress that he’d winked at was the Madam of an exclusive brothel, that the man patting him on the shoulder was responsible for the deaths of twenty people who lived in a slum. 

Every now and again, he’ll meet Johnny’s gaze from across the room, and the older man will give him a fleeting smile-- it serves to motivate Yukhei further. He doesn’t want to mess this up. 

“So I just drove the Tesla out from inside the mall,” Yukhei finishes, and is met by amused laughter, approving smiles. “I don’t know how it fit through the doors but I did.” Johnny steps in right then, asking the crowd to excuse them for a moment. 

“What’s up?” Yukhei asks, trailing behind Johnny as he weaves through the crowd. 

Johnny’s face betrays nothing as he says, “There are some people I want you to meet.” 

Yukhei has been meeting people all night, playing the part of Johnny’s young cousin, eager to be taken under Johnny’s wing and be a part of the vast dynasty that makes up the Ruby Dragon. Johnny had worked his way up over half a decade, deep undercover, as he started off as a recruit, and making a name for himself smuggling weapons and contraband goods. He’s respected, but most importantly, he is feared. Compared to Johnny, Yukhei’s assignment is almost hilariously easy. 

They make their way across the vast expanse of the ballroom, nodding to people as they pass, until they get to a far corner. Yukhei recognizes the faces before Johnny even opens his mouth, and the skin at the back of his neck prickles. 

“Taeyong, this is Yukhei, my cousin I was telling you about.” 

Yukhei ends up shaking the hand of a slender man with platinum hair and dark, doe eyes. His fingers are cold and bony, face almost aristocratic in its perfection. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Yukhei says. _ None of it good, _ is what he keeps to himself. A year ago, the resentment and anger, the desire for justice, would have eaten up at him. He’s gotten better at staring into the face of evil.

“Likewise,” Taeyong says, voice gravely, though the corners of his mouth tilt upwards. “You’ve caused quite a stir tonight already.” 

Yukhei laughs sheepishly as Taeyong touches the sleeve of another man next to him, engrossed in conversation with someone else. 

“Mark, this is Johnny’s Yukhei,” Taeyong says. 

Mark Lee’s features are much softer than his brother’s, but Yukhei knows not to trust appearances. “Nice to meet you, man. I’ve been wanting to hear that Tesla story from the man himself.” 

“Yeah, of course. It’s always better the five-hundredth time I tell it.” 

It takes a second for Mark to register the joke, but as soon as he does, his face scrunches up in laughter, and he slaps Yukhei’s arm good-naturedly. “Yo, man, I like you. Welcome to the family.” 

Yukhei’s grin is crooked and charming. “Glad to be here.” 

“Where’s Donghyuck?” Johnny asks. Taeyong rolls his eyes and shrugs, like he can’t be bothered to care. 

“God only knows,” he says, with the tone of a parent exasperated with their perpetually-misbehaving child. Yukhei’s curiosity peaks at this, because he’s heard whispers of the youngest Lee, but he’s almost like a ghost, and whatever pictures and intel the team had gathered left much to be desired. 

“Don’t let Hyuck see Yukhei, he’ll eat him up,” Mark jokes, and for a moment, Yukhei tenses, because _ what the hell does that mean? _ But Johnny and Taeyong just laugh lightly at the comment, leaving Yukhei confused and intrigued, despite his gut instinct to get out of this situation as fast as possible. 

Donghyuck Lee is one of the Ruby Dragon’s great mysteries. Agents who managed to get face-to-face with him never lived long enough to tell the tale. Yukhei had heard rumors, ranging from Donghyuck being the secret head of the organization, to being the pampered princess in the tower.

“Actually-- speak of the devil--” Mark starts. Yukhei turns his head in the direction Mark juts his chin, and suddenly, his world feels tilted on its axis. 

Donghyuck Lee, of the Seoul Lees, the Ruby Dragon, is nothing like what Yukhei imagined him to be. For someone so elusive, his presence is commanding, his very _ being _ eye-catching, if his outfit wasn’t interesting enough. 

The general dress code at this party is divided into a clear binary-- men in finely tailored suits, and women in their most expensive gowns. Donghyuck occupies a space that is both and neither simultaneously. 

As Donghyuck floats through the crowd, Yukhei takes in the billowy coral silk blouse, tucked into skintight leather pants, held together with a gold belt. His shoes are black leather and heeled, and make a resounding _ clack _ as he walks with a purpose. His feathery orange hair, button nose, and round face make him look angelic, but it’s undercut by the kohl smudged under his eyes and the swollen red tint of his mouth, which is currently curled down in disdain. 

Donghyuck is unlike anyone Yukhei’s ever seen before, and he finds himself transfixed. It’s only a sharp jab in the side from Johnny’s elbow that snaps him out of it. Yukhei swallows thickly and tries to settle back into something less incriminating. He wonders if his hair is long enough to cover his red ears. 

“Johnny,” is the first thing Donghyuck says, though it sounds more like a purr coming out of his mouth. He ignores Taeyong and Mark rather purposefully, angling his body away to hold out his hand. Yukhei’s gut twists as Johnny takes it and drops a kiss over Donghyuck’s knuckles, smiling as he does. 

“Hyuck, good to see you.” 

“I couldn’t leave a party before seeing my favorite person, now could I?” Donghyuck’s eyes, round and warm, sparkle with flirtatious amusement, and Yukhei’s neck feels too hot. 

“I would’ve been hurt, angel.” Johnny turns to Yukhei and pulls him forward. “This is my cousin, Yukhei.” 

Yukhei stays stock-still as Donghyuck assesses him. He makes no motion to shake hands, like Yukhei isn’t entirely worthy of direct contact just yet. Instead, his eyes scan Yukhei from head to toe, and Yukhei might think he was being checked out, if the gaze wasn’t so unnerving. Donghyuck looks at Yukhei like he’s picking him apart, piece by piece. 

“Welcome to the family,,” is what Donghyuck says, finally, voice low like he’s bored, and it’s a far cry from how he’d greeted Johnny. Yukhei doesn’t linger on why that makes his mouth feel sour. He then turns to Mark and Taeyong. “I’m leaving now. Just wanted to let you now.” 

“The party’s just started,” Mark splutters indignantly. 

“It’s been two hours, and I’m _ bored. _ I’m leaving.” 

“Don’t be rude, Donghyuck. It’s very unbecoming.” Taeyong’s voice goes lower than Yukhei thought possible, and an involuntary chill crawls up his spine, even though he’s not the recipient of the words. 

Donghyuck doesn’t seem to share this proclivity. He just rolls his eyes. “No one will miss me. Anyways, Coco’s probably wondering where I’ve gone. I’m leaving.” He turns on his heel and walks off, and there’s really no room for argument when he isn’t within hearing vicinity. Yukhei doubts Mark and Taeyong are the type to cause scenes. 

“Business as usual, then,” Johnny says with a wry smile, and it dispels most of the tension that had come with Donghyuck’s arrival. 

“I don’t know where he gets that attitude from,” Taeyong says with a scowl. “He’s getting harder and harder to control.” 

Something about Taeyong’s words don’t sit well with Yukhei, but he brushes it aside, because it really isn’t his business. 

“Better get used to the theatrics,” Mark adds, nudging Yukhei. “Don’t let him get to you, he’s harmless.” 

  


∞

  


Yukhei doesn’t dare hope to see Donghyuck again. He’s clearly not interesting enough to hold the youngest Lee’s attention, and it’s probably for the better-- he needs to concentrate on extracting intel, and gaining Mark and Taeyong’s trust. 

Once in a while, though, Yukhei will sense Donghyuck around, something like a sixth sense. The back of his neck prickles, and somehow, Yukhei just _ knows _ Donghyuck is nearby. 

He drinks in the brief glances like greedy gulps of water, memorizing every detail of Donghyuck’s form in the few seconds they share the same space. Yukhei is terrified at the speed at which he’s become transfixed by a person who probably thinks he’s nothing more than a disposable body. He’s smart and focused enough not to let it affect his work, but when he’s alone at night, his thoughts linger on the divot of Donghyuck’s collarbones, the keen intelligence behind droopy eyes, the glossy, spoiled pout of his mouth. 

It’s maddening and entirely frustrating, but there’s little to be done. He just savors what he gets, and tries to keep his focus.

In the weeks following the party, Donghyuck seems to be lingering more than usual. At the beginning, it would be hard-pressed to see Donghyuck around when Johnny and Yukhei were here for business, surrounded by other higher-ups. Now, Donghyuck sticks around for longer, even when he has nothing better to do, the same bored expression fixed on his face. 

He ends up in places that he doesn’t even need to be.

Yukhei’s practicing his shooting with Johnny and Jaemin, another new recruit, at the private underground range, when Donghyuck appears out of nowhere, standing back and watching the other three men shoot, wincing at the sounds of the blast and generally observing everything with his trademark disdain. 

Jaemin, who is easily distracted, is the first to address Donghyuck’s presence. “Did you need something, Mr. Lee?” 

Donghyuck’s answering smile is sugary-sweet. “Oh honey, Mr. Lee was my father and he’s six feet underground. Call me Donghyuck.” 

Yukhei turns away from the conversation and aims his Glock .45 at the flimsy paper target, imagining it to be Jaemin’s face. He fires several shots before lowering his gun and replacing the empty bullet cartridge with a new one. He glances over to Jaemin’s stall, only to see Donghyuck leaning against it, blinking up at a smirking Jaemin. 

“I’m just not a very big fan of guns,” Donghyuck says, wrinkling his nose in a way Yukhei senses is extremely deliberate. 

“Aw, there’s nothing to be scared of,” Jaemin says, crossing his arms so his biceps flex. “I can teach you if you like.” 

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t need to--”

“It’s not a problem, really. Someone as pretty as you should know how to defend yourself.” Only Yukhei is close enough to Johnny to hear the older man snort in amusement. 

Donghyuck bats his eyelashes at Jaemin, biting his lip, before standing up straight. “Alright. I don’t know if I’ll be good at it, though.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m a great teacher.” 

Donghyuck giggles. “I’m sure you are, sweetheart.” 

Yukhei tries not pay attention as Jaemin fusses around Donghyuck, giving him goggles and adjusting his noise-cancelling headphones. Then, he wraps his arms around Donghyuck, correcting his form and getting handsy as he explains the basic mechanics of firing a pistol. Donghyuck nods along, the very picture of interest, and Yukhei feels the envy burn in his gut. 

“--And then, you just fire. Be careful of the recoil, you have to anticipate it and move with it, otherwise, you’ll hurt yourself.” 

“Okay, I’ll be careful,” Donghyuck echoes, batting his eyes again, and Yukhei wonders if he’s the only one who notices that it’s all fake. It’s also entirely possible that he’s hoping Donghyuck is just putting up an act and isn’t actually attracted to someone as smarmy as Jaemin. 

“Don’t feel too bad if you miss, alright? You’re not gonna be an expert right away,” Jaemin says, before stepping away to give Donghyuck space to shoot. 

“I’ll try my best,” Donghyuck assures. He then raises the pistol without hesitation, and fires off several rounds in rapid succession, not so much as flinching. He lowers the gun and presses the button to bring the paper target closer for inspection. Jaemin’s jaw goes slack as he takes in the bullet holes going through the head and the chest, right where the heart is. They’re perfect kill shots. 

Donghyuck pulls his headphones and goggles off, setting down the gun. “You’re an amazing teacher, honey,” he drawls. “I would _ never _ have been able to defend myself if it wasn’t for you.” Jaemin scrambles to catch the headphones and goggles that Donghyuck tosses his way. 

Johnny’s snickering in the corner, and Yukhei blinks at Donghyuck, something like pride simmering in his blood. He can’t help the smirk on his face as Donghyuck passes by him. Donghyuck just winks, and strides out the door. 

  


∞

  


Yukhei doesn't care what Mark says. Donghyuck is not harmless. 

In fact, Yukhei is of the opinion that the most dangerous person in the room right now is the young man splayed across the red velvet chaise longue, bare feet kicked up, a glass of wine balanced precariously between ring-adorned fingers. 

Yukhei would be stupid to assume that Donghyuck is as clueless as he presents himself to be. Not after that stunt at the shooting range. There’s unimaginable intelligence behind that vacant expression, something calculated and meticulous in design. Donghyuck in an enigma, and Yukhei is fascinated. 

For what feels like the hundredth time, Yukhei is forced to tear his eyes away from Donghyuck’s form and immerse himself in the discussions going on at the long oak table at the Lee family mansion. Johnny sits at his left, closer to the head of the table, where Taeyong sits, pouring over plans for a massive shipment of narcotics from their distributors China. 

They’ve been working all day, going over the details of the job-- massive storage containers would be unloaded from a ship during the middle of the night. Police officers and security guards and the shipyard management would need to be paid off (or eliminated), and men would need to move quickly, much like a well-oiled machine. 

All the moving pieces are strangely familiar to Yukhei, set up much like the missions he was part of during his time in the Black Ops. He remembers to act appropriately confused, and Johnny plays the part of a patient mentor, explaining all the aspects of the operation. Some time after lunch, Donghyuck had sauntered in, and Yukhei hadn’t missed Mark’s annoyed scowl as Donghyuck deposited himself in the sitting area and had remained there since, fiddling with his phone and an untouched drink. 

It’s getting dark, and most of Taeyong and Mark’s associates have left for the evening, but the two are still hard at work. It makes sense to Yukhei how the Ruby Dragon was able to expand so quickly and efficiently in the last few years, since Taeyong had (allegedly) brutally murdered their father and taken control of the family business in his stead. 

It’s then that Yukhei feels his skin prickle, like he’s being watched. He looks up slowly, only to meet Donghyuck’s gaze. Despite their anticlimactic and brief first introduction, and that stolen moment at the shooting range, Yukhei feels the effects of Donghyuck’s undivided attention like hot coals in his stomach. 

Yukhei considers himself to be fairly good at flirting, at playful banter that leads to something more pleasurable for both parties. But one look from Donghyuck renders Yukhei a shadow of himself, prepubescent, red-faced, and stumbling over his words. 

Donghyuck doesn’t stop staring, even when Yukhei’s caught him. If anything, it seems like Donghyuck is pleased that Yukhei knows. He tilts his head in an almost innocent motion, but there’s a heat in his eyes that makes Yukhei’s throat dry. 

Yukhei doesn’t know how long they just stare at each other. It feels like eons, though it can’t be more than a few seconds. And then, like a broken spell, Donghyuck looks away, taking a lingering sip of his wine, and stands. 

“Leaving,” is the only thing Donghyuck says, and Mark barely grunts, hunched over a pile of documents. For him to get to the door, he needs to pass by where Yukhei is sitting, and Yukhei tenses himself for the inevitability of being close to Donghyuck. 

And then-- a fleeting touch, right at the nape of his neck. It’s the slightest brush of fingers across his skin, but Yukhei feels like he’s been electrocuted. The room suddenly feels too small, too hot. The door to the room closes with a _ click, _ and Yukhei looks around wildly to see if anyone had noticed. 

No one had. 

Yukhei blinks rapidly, mind racing. Seduction is a game Yukhei plays well, but Donghyuck’s approach throws him for such a loop that he can’t make heads or tails of it. 

He swallows thickly, before standing on shaky legs. “I’m-- I’m going to go use the bathroom,” he says. Johnny nods, before murmuring something to Taeyong, and Yukhei just turns and steps out of the room. His knees feel like jelly, and he braces himself against the wall just by the door, trying to regain his sense of balance. 

Somewhere down the long hall, he hears the soft noise of a door closing. He turns towards it, and he’s almost embarrassed at how little time he spends debating whether he should follow after. A strange sense of lightheadedness overtakes Yukhei as the distance between him and the door lessens, and the thought that_ maybe this is a huge mistake _ doesn’t cross his mind. 

Yukhei is good at winging it, at following his instincts, and right now, all his instincts are telling him to open the door and hope Donghyuck is standing beyond it. What will come of this, Yukhei doesn’t know, but he wants to find out. 

He turns the knob of door handle slowly, not sure what he’ll find on the other side. For all Yukhei knows, Donghyuck was somewhere else entirely, and he’d find a maid beyond these doors. 

What Yukhei doesn’t expect is to step into a massive library, walls covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves, not an vacant space in sight. The lights are dim, the curtains are drawn back to reveal a gorgeous sunset, and right in the middle of a cluster of sofas, sits Donghyuck, with a full grown tiger at his feet. 

To Yukhei’s credit, he doesn’t startle, though he does pause before stepping over the threshold. Donghyuck grins, mischievous and wickedly amused. He rubs his bare foot over the tiger’s head, and all it does is yawn widely-- showcasing rows of sharp teeth-- and settle its chin on its paws. 

“Don’t be scared. Coco won’t hurt you--” And Yukhei, somehow, anticipates Donghyuck’s next words. “--Unless I ask, of course.” 

“Uhm--” Yukhei says smartly, more wary than ever before. This isn’t what he imagined would happen. Truthfully, he isn’t sure what would happen but this isn’t it, by a mile. Part of his brain screams that it’s a trap.

Donghyuck sighs and stands, the movement fluid, with a dancer’s grace. “Coco was Mark’s tenth birthday present. He got bored after the first week or so, so he gave Coco to me.” With every sentence, Donghyuck gets a little closer. He stops when there are several feet between them. “Close the door, Yukhei.” 

Donghyuck’s voice is so soft and alluring, that Yukhei almost forget what he says. Gathering what’s left of his composure, he steps fully inside the library and closes the door, quiet and deliberate. “Come closer,” Donghyuck says, commanding, even in the caramel-sweetness of his words. 

Yukhei steps forward like he’s magnetized, drawn to wherever Donghyuck is. He stops a foot away, not sure what he is and isn’t allowed to do. Donghyuck seems pleased enough with the arrangement, if the soft quirk of his mouth is any indication. He takes the final step forward, until they’re almost chest to chest. 

Donghyuck carries himself with such grace and presence that he looks taller from afar. But when they’re standing like this, Yukhei notes, with a thrill down his spine, how small Donghyuck really is. The top of his head would barely graze Yukhei’s chin, his waist narrow enough that Yukhei could certainly wrap both hands around it and his fingertips would touch. 

There’s something milky-sweet in the air, and he’s not sure whether it comes from Donghyuck’s hair or his skin, but he finds himself swaying forward, just a little, before he rights himself. 

“Hmm.” Donghyuck hums, bringing a hand up to press against Yukhei’s sternum. He wonders if Donghyuck can feel his heart hammering in his chest. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” His words seem almost mocking, but it’s soothed by his hand dragging down Yukhei’s chest, to his stomach, then back up again, until it wraps around his throat. Donghyuck leans in, breath warm against Yukhei’s ear. 

“I’ve been watching you.” 

Yukhei doesn’t know what it is about those four words that make his entire body wrack with a violent shiver. He looks down at Donghyuck, stupefied. He wonders, for a terrified second, whether he’s been made. Then he registers the heat in Donghyuck’s eyes, and realizes.

The revelation goes straight to the heat building in the pit of his stomach. 

“Learn anything interesting?” Yukhei doesn’t know how his voice doesn’t crack, Donghyuck’s thumb brushing over his bobbing Adam’s apple. His fingers are warm and soft, both electrifying and soothing, like a balm for the unidentifiable ache Yukhei’s been feeling lately. 

Longing, he realizes belatedly. Lust. 

“You’re very attractive,” Donghyuck says plainly, his hand wandering up to cup Yukhei’s jaw. His own hands stay clenched at his sides. Something tells him he’s not quite allowed to touch. Yet. “Do you think I am too?” 

It seems a little rhetorical-- Donghyuck certainly knows how he looks. But that doesn’t stop Yukhei from breathing out, “You’re beautiful,” in a rush, like if he doesn’t say them fast enough, he’ll lose his nerve. And Donghyuck’s answering smile is angelic; fondness wraps around Yukhei’s heart like a vice. 

“Do you want to fuck me, Yukhei?” is Donghyuck’s next question, and Yukhei is thrown by its bluntness. Yukhei gapes, and Donghyuck uses the opportunity to rub his thumb across the plushness of his lower lip, eyes following the movement with fascination. 

“Only if you want me to,” he says quietly. Donghyuck leans away a little, tilting his head, like he doesn’t know what to do with that answer. It’s not the one he was expecting, clearly. It’s silent for a moment, and Yukhei resists the urge to fidget, to get any sort of friction for the tightness in his pants. 

“I guess that depends,” Donghyuck finally concedes. His hand slides down again, lingering at Yukhei’s neck, before coming down to wrap around Yukhei’s tie. With a tug, he pulls Yukhei towards the long oak table that takes up most of the space in the room. When the back of his thighs hit the wood, Donghyuck hops up to sit on the edge, and tugs Yukhei between his spread legs. 

Yukhei stumbles forward, bringing his hands out to brace against the wood. It brings their faces closer together, and Donghyuck grins, wicked and beautiful. 

Another tug to his tie brings him close enough for Donghyuck to wrap his legs around the backs of Yukhei’s thighs. He swallows thickly, and Donghyuck follows the movement of his throat carefully, before leaning in and pressing his open mouth to the skin there. 

Yukhei’s fingers curl almost painfully into the wood, the wet heat of Donghyuck’s mouth making him dizzy. Donghyuck grazes his teeth along the skin, and for the briefest of moments, Yukhei has the image of Donghyuck digging his teeth in fully and ripping his throat out. He finds he wouldn’t mind, but before he can think more about the disturbing implications, Donghyuck drags his mouth to a spot below Yukhei’s ear. 

Donghyuck bites at the skin, dragging it between his teeth so tightly that Yukhei winces, the indecipherable mix of pain and pleasure going straight to his dick. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he certainly is now. He lets out a breathy moan, and Donghyuck just hums, dragging his hand back down Yukhei’s chest, stopping right above his belt. 

“You smell so good,” Donghyuck murmurs, nuzzling his nose against the skin in a motion that Yukhei finds ridiculously endearing and unendingly sexy. He makes another noise, low in his throat, wondering what Donghyuck plans on doing to him. 

Donghyuck‘s teeth bite down on Yukhei’s earlobe and catch on his diamond stud. He tugs at the flesh, and Yukhei’s hips jerk forward involuntarily. Donghyuck laughs breathlessly at Yukhei’s reaction, and bites down on his neck again, so suddenly that Yukhei yelps. 

“You’re so cute,” Donghyuck says idly, leaning away to gaze up at Yukhei. His lips are spit-slick, eyes a little glassy, though wholly appreciative, and Yukhei feels too warm in his clothes. 

“Please,” is all Yukhei manages to whimper. He wonders if he should feel embarrassed, being reduced to this state, but quickly decides he would humiliate himself time and time again if it’ll get Donghyuck to smile at him like that. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Donghyuck says, stroking a hand through Yukhei’s hair. It makes the tension Yukhei didn’t know he’d been holding in his shoulders evaporate, and he settles in a way that makes him feel like he’s floating on clouds. His eyes drift closed as Donghyuck’s nails scrape his scalp, letting out a small, pleading noise. “Oh god, you’re just perfect, aren’t you,” Donghyuck says, voice barely above a whisper, like he’s just realized something amazing. 

Regardless, the words make Yukhei’s knees want to buckle, and he’s barely holding himself up as is. “Wh-what are you going to do to me?” Yukhei asks, tongue heavy like lead in his mouth. He barely manages to pry his eyes open to look at Donghyuck. 

“What do you want me to do to you, darling?” Donghyuck’s voice is impossibly soft, and it feels different from the coy, teasing words at the beginning. This is tender. Yukhei’s grip on reality becomes nearly nonexistent. 

“Touch me? Please?” Nodding, Donghyuck leans forward to drop another kiss to Yukhei’s bobbing throat. He desperately wants to feel Donghyuck’s lips against his, to taste every corner of his mouth, but Yukhei wants whatever Donghyuck wants. He’ll take whatever he’s given and he’ll be thankful for it. 

Donghyuck leans away just enough so he can unbuckle Yukhei’s belt. The sounds of the metal on nimble fingers trigger something in Yukhei, like a Pavlovian response. The leather slides out from the loops on his slacks, and Donghyuck would be the perfect picture of poise, if not for the speed at which he works the zipper down, betraying his own sense of urgency. 

Yukhei breathes a sigh of relief as his cock springs free from the confines of his pants and briefs. Donghyuck lets out a small noise, body going still as he eyes Yukhei’s length. And then, almost cruelly, he wraps his hand around it, just under the head. Yukhei moans low, head dropping down to rest against Donghyuck’s shoulder. 

“Shh, baby,” Donghyuck says, almost absentmindedly, as he traces his fingers up and down Yukhei’s length, thumb digging into the slit to hear Yukhei choke, fingers insistent on the spot just under the head, along the pronounced veins. 

The room feels like it’s spinning, and sweat breaks out across Yukhei’s temple and neck as Donghyuck continues his ministrations, more concerned with sating his new fascination than trying to get Yukhei off. Strangely enough, that just makes Yukhei more aroused. 

Donghyuck’s finger collects the dribble of precome at the tip, and pushes at Yukhei until he straightens his head. Then, he takes his finger and smears the precome across the swell of Yukhei’s bottom lip. Yukhei’s mouth falls open, and before he can register anything, Donghyuck is leaning forward to take the flesh in his mouth, sucking the fluid off. 

“_Fuck,_” Yukhei grits, watching Donghyuck lick along his own mouth, like he’s intrigued with the taste. And then Donghyuck is leaning in again, wrapping his free hand around Yukhei’s neck to bring him closer, slotting their mouths together in a wet, open-mouthed kiss, his other hand jerking Yukhei painfully slowly. 

Unable to help himself anymore, Yukhei pries his hands from the wood, and winds them around Donghyuck’s waist, tugging them almost painfully close. Donghyuck lets out a surprised squeak, pulling at Yukhei’s hair in retaliation. 

Yukhei’s hands won’t stop wandering, finding purchase on the skin underneath Donghyuck’s shirt. He traces the ridges of Donghyuck’s spine, splays his hands across his stomach, and revels in just how _ soft _ Donghyuck is all over. 

Donghyuck’s mouth is like heaven, working frantically against Yukhei’s, like the world is ending and this is all they’ll get. Yukhei bucks up into Donghyuck’s hand, desperate and messy, while his own hands slide down the back of Donghyuck’s own jeans, groping at his ass and digging his nails into the flesh. 

“_Fuck fuck fuck,_” Donghyuck hisses, when Yukhei tries to get them closer and ends up lifting Donghyuck off of the table entirely. The hand gripping Yukhei’s dick comes up to wind around his bulging bicep instead to steady him, and Yukhei, mindless in his desperation, just presses Donghyuck back against the table, crawling on top of him to keep their mouths pressed together. 

Yukhei’s thigh brushes against the bulge in Donghyuck’s pants, and he cries out breathlessly, back arching, eyes shut in pleasure. But before Yukhei can do anything else, Donghyuck tugs him down into another kiss, hand back on Yukhei’s length, jerking with renewed fervor. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, Donghyuck,” Yukhei mumbles mindlessly. “_Pretty, perfect, beautiful--_” His words turn into incomprehensible grunts as Donghyuck tightens his grip and moves faster. He buries his face into the juncture of Donghyuck’s neck, breathing harshly against the skin, desperate for Donghyuck’s smell to ground him before he completely loses his mind. 

“_Gonna-- come--_” Yukhei grits out, and Donghyuck lets out a high-pitched whine. Yukhei tumbles over the edge just a few strokes later, painting the exposed strip of Donghyuck’s stomach with streaks of white. He’s still for a few moments, eyes screwed shut, because every time he tries to open them, he sees spots. 

It takes all of his strength to heave himself off of Donghyuck, and he stares for a moment at the debauched beauty splayed out in front of him. As though he’s completely committed to making Yukhei lose his mind, Donghyuck swipes up the come on his skin and licks it off of his fingers like it’s sweet cream, like nothing tastes better than Yukhei. There’s a long moment where they just stare at each other, lost in a surreal moment. 

Once Yukhei comes back to his senses, he reaches for the waistband of Donghyuck’s jeans, enthusiastic to return the favor, but Donghyuck pushes his hand away, sitting up. Yukhei feels panic, acrid in his mouth, wondering what he did wrong. Sensing Yukhei’s unease, Donghyuck just smiles, and this is different from all the other smiles. This one is just… sweet. 

“Oh, my darling” Donghyuck coos, no trace of coyness in his voice as he sits up, cupping Yukhei’s chin to soothe him. “Next time.” 

“Next time?” Yukhei echoes, already feeling the burn in his blood at the prospect of another chance to be close to Donghyuck, to taste his mouth, to feel his skin. 

Donghyuck nods, scooting forward towards the edge of the table until his feet can touch the floor. Yukhei mirrors his actions, feeling lost and hopeful and stupid and giddy all at once. Needing something to do with his shaking hands, Yukhei works at tucking himself back into his pants, and fixing his clothes. 

“Next time…” Donghyuck says, hand coming up to straighten Yukhei’s tie and tuck a stray lock of hair back. “Next time I want to come with you inside me. Yeah?” 

Only a fool would say no. 

  
  



	2. apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yukhei should have been more careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rest]
> 
> [apple - gain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSEtAC8wkhw)

Donghyuck doesn’t live at the Lee family mansion. That’s one of the first definite things Yukhei learns about the man, something he tucks away in a mental file devoted entirely to the youngest Lee. 

Instead, he lives in a cobbled brownstone in the middle of the arts district downtown. No one would think that an heir to a flourishing crime syndicate would live in an area teeming with starving artists and artisan bodegas. But Yukhei notices the armed guards stationed discreetly around the block and knows he’s in the right place. 

He wonders whether Donghyuck’s need for space stems from the obvious animosity between himself and his older brothers. 

The front door has been painted a robin’s egg blue, standing out against the earthy red brick face. There are friendly tulips in planters on the porch, and a birdhouse set on the top of the stair railing. Another side to the mystery of Lee Donghyuck. 

Yukhei hesitates at the door, skin prickling with anticipation and nerves. He’d been at a bar with Johnny and a couple of other associates when he got the text from an unknown number, with just an address, signed  _ D _ . After a week of radio silence from Donghyuck, the text relieves Yukhei more than he’s prepared to examine. He’d mumbled something about needing to duck out early to finish some work, and Johnny obviously hadn’t believed him, but he’d let Yukhei go. 

Yukhei knows this is dangerous. Even if he was just another one of Ruby Dragon’s disposable bodies, starting some sort of affair with someone as powerful as Donghyuck poses great risk. It’s made even worse considering Yukhei is undercover. He can’t imagine the disappointment on Johnny’s face if he ever found out.

He’d spent long nights thinking about this, agonizing over his options. Ultimately, Yukhei had decided that being close to Donghyuck could help with gathering new intel. That’s his rational explanation. 

His irrational one is that he couldn’t stay away from Donghyuck if he tried. There’s no real explanation for it, but something inside Yukhei knows that this is his fate. 

Before he can raise his hand to knock, the door opens. 

He’s not prepared for the swift punch of desire, the way his lungs constrict at the sight of Donghyuck. He’s dressed in a cozy sweater, lounge pants, and his feet are bare. His face is devoid of any makeup, and somehow he looks even prettier this way. 

Donghyuck smirks at him. “Were you just planning on standing there all night?” 

Yukhei barely manages to swallow. “I would have knocked eventually.” 

“Well, thank god I put you out of your misery,” Donghyuck says, rolling his eyes. “Otherwise it would have been morning by the time you got the guts.” He turns on his heels, a silent invitation, and Yukhei follows him into his house, closing the door slowly behind him. 

He doesn’t expect Donghyuck’s home to look so open, so cozy. Part of him imagined Donghyuck’s house to be a den of seduction and sin. He’s not prepared for the bright white walls, the colorful paintings, the vases of cheerful flowers. 

“Wine?” Donghyuck asks, as Yukhei trails behind him into a spacious kitchen. 

“Sure,” Yukhei agrees, grateful for anything that might help him get his bearings. Donghyuck just smiles at him again, knowing, as he uncorks a bottle that looks vintage. The whole space smells like Donghyuck, milky-sweet, like caramel. Yukhei’s thrown back into the memory of being pressed against Donghyuck for the first time, of learning Donghyuck’s scent. 

“Not what you expected?” Donghyuck asks, filling two long-stemmed glasses. 

“I don’t know what I expected,” Yukhei says, bracing himself as Donghyuck approaches him. “I like it, though. Cozy.” 

“I think so too.” Donghyuck steps into Yukhei’s space, and the smile falls away into something more serious. “I rarely allow visitors, Yukhei. Tread carefully.” Yukhei barely manages to grab onto the glass Donghyuck hands him. 

Donghyuck breezes past him and down the hall again, and Yukhei follows him into an open living room. There’s a fire crackling below the mantle, deep brown leather couches piled with sherpa throws and pillows, and a display of succulents on a mahogany coffee table. Dongyhuck falls onto the corner of one couch and tucks his feet underneath him, perfectly comfortable, and Yukhei sits next to him. 

It’s silent for a moment as Donghyuck regards him, and Yukhei realizes that he has no idea what will happen tonight. Though there’s a tangible sexual tension between them, it’s just as likely Yukhei will leave here without having had sex. And he’s surprised to find himself not minding that in the least. 

He watches Donghyuck take a sip of the wine, then scrunch up his face. “For something that costs thousands of dollars, it tastes like absolute shit.” 

That pulls a surprised laugh out of Yukhei. He eyes his own glass suspiciously, not fond of wine himself. “Then why are we drinking it?” 

Donghyuck’s answering grin is impish. “Makes me feel more like an adult.” He gets onto his knees and faces Yukhei. “But being an adult is a total drag, isn’t it?” 

“Definitely,” is all Yukhei manages to say, before Donghyuck takes both their wine glasses, sets them on the coffee table, and deposits himself squarely in Yukhei’s lap. His hands grip Donghyuck’s hips on instinct, eyes widening as he regards Donghyuck’s innocent expression.

“I thought we should get to know each other a little better,” Donghyuck says, running his hands across Yukhei’s shoulders and down his arms. “Why don’t you take off your coat? You must be warm.” 

Yukhei obeys, silent as he leans forward, and Donghyuck helps him out of his suit jacket. Donghyuck makes a noise in his throat as he fingers at the gun holster, the black leather standing out against the stark white of his dress shirt. 

“Two guns?” Donghyuck asks, pulling both pistols out. Yukhei feels a brief punch of anxiety at how easy it would be for Donghyuck to shoot him, point-blank. He forces himself to relax, and leans back into the plushness of the couch. 

“I’m ambidextrous,” Yukhei says, and that makes Donghyuck laugh, eyebrows raised suggestively. Yukhei’s own lips twitch up into a smirk.

“Good with your hands, are you?” Donghyuck makes quick work of ejecting the cartridges from both guns, and tosses the separated pieces carelessly onto the cushion beside them. 

“Very.” 

Yukhei knows his heart is slamming against his ribs, knows Donghyuck can feel it under his hands as he feels Yukhei up, fingers toying with his tie. “Did you like college?” 

The randomness of the question throws Yukhei. “Huh?” 

Donghyuck looks up from tugging his tie loose. His gaze is imploring as he repeats, “Did you like college?” It takes a second for Yukhei to remember the details of his carefully-crafted backstory. The real Yukhei Wong had been recruited right out of high school into the Black Ops. This Yukhei Wong had majored in economics. 

“Yeah, of course.” Donghyuck tilts his head, like he wants Yukhei to elaborate. “I mean, the workload is tough, but the best parts of college are the ones you spend out of class.” 

Donghyuck slips the tie away from Yukhei’s neck. “Like?”

It’s difficult to focus, when Donghyuck is toying with the silk around his fingers. “Like, parties. Hanging out with friends. Just, you know. Being young and enjoying that freedom.” Yukhei swallows. “Why do you ask?” 

Donghyuck shrugs. “Just curious.” His eyes are wide and angelic as he stares at Yukhei. “You’re one of the only people around close to my age who went. I was curious.” 

Yukhei is thrown for a loop. “What about your friends?” 

“Don’t have any.” Donghyuck’s voice is dead as he says this.

Desperate to put some emotion back in Donghyuck’s eyes, Yukhei squeezes his hips. “What about Jaemin?” 

Donghyuck laughs. “Jaemin is an idiot.” He toys with the top button of Yukhei’s shirt, unfastens it. “I’m the princess in the tower. No one’s gotten past the scary dragon yet.” 

“Is the dragon that scary?” The second button comes undone under Donghyuck’s nimble fingers. His fingers are a little cold as they brush against the exposed skin. 

Donghyuck’s expression is flat when he looks up at Yukhei again. “You apparently don’t think so.” The third button pops open. “My brothers like you. I can’t decide whether I hate you for it yet.” 

“Then why am I here?” That’s the ultimate question. Donghyuck Lee is an enigma, a secret wrapped in secrets, and yet, he’d allowed Yukhei into his home. 

Donghyuck’s fingertips trail up Yukhei’s throat, his thumb rubbing over the jut of Yukhei’s Adam’s apple, before resting against the nape of his neck. He tilts his head, inquisitive. “I don’t really know.” 

Yukhei’s breath hitches as Donghyuck’s scrape against his scalp, and he struggles to find his words. “You don’t really seem like the kind of person who does things without knowing exactly what’s gonna happen.”

Donghyuck’s answering smile is bright, and it feels like a reward when his fingers card through Yukhei’s hair. “Clever boy. Not just a pretty face, are you?” 

“Neither are you.” Donghyuck may have everyone else fooled, but Yukhei doesn’t buy into the pampered princess act. Not anymore. Even the air Donghyuck takes into his lungs seems calculated. There’s far more to him than he shows, and Yukhei burns with curiosity. 

“I’m flattered you think so, darling. But now--” Donghyuck leans in, wrapping his arms tightly around Yukhei’s neck, pressing their bodies together until Yukhei can feel every part of him. Their noses brush together, and Yukhei’s heart splutters in his chest. “I don’t really feel like small talk anymore. Is that okay with you?” 

“Whatever you want,” is all Yukhei can manage to say, before Donghyuck slots their mouths together. Their first kiss had been frantic, desperate. This time, it’s slow and deep. Donghyuck makes a noise of satisfaction at the back of his throat, and Yukhei luxuriates in the sound, in the feeling of their bodies against each other. 

Donghyuck’s mouth tastes sweet, and Yukhei takes his time licking into it. Donghyuck seems to enjoy that, tightening the grip he has around Yukhei’s neck. For minutes, they just kiss, deep and wet and decadent, and Yukhei could do this forever, but there’s something simmering in his gut, growing more and more urgent. His hands wander, slipping under Donghyuck’s sweater to press against the warm skin underneath. 

His hands smooth up and down Donghyuck’s back, before thumbing at his nipples. Donghyuck makes a raw noise and tugs at Yukhei’s hair in retaliation. Yukhei just presses harder, rubbing in tight circles, and Donghyuck bites down on Yukhei’s lip, grinding down on Yukhei’s half-hard cock. 

“ _ Fuck--”  _ Yukhei chokes out, and that just spurs Donghyuck on, grinding down even harder in Yukhei’s lap, until the arousal is a wildfire under Yukhei’s skin, and he feels dizzy from the pleasure of it. He can feel Donghyuck’s heart slamming against his hands, and he takes solace in the knowledge that Donghyuck is just as worked up. 

Desperate to be closer and unable to help himself, Yukhei grabs Donghyuck by the waist and lifts him up. Donghyuck exhales sharply in surprise, tightening his grip around Yukhei’s neck, and Yukhei lowers him gently onto his back. Splayed out against the cushions, face flushed, an amused smile tugging at his bruised lips, Donghyuck looks like everything Yukhei ever wanted. 

He presses their bodies together and kisses Donghyuck again, skin burning at the way Donghyuck moans and digs his nails into Yukhei’s back. Every thought in his head fizzles out, honing in on the way he’s surrounded by Donghyuck, his smell, his warmth, the very taste of him. Feeling drunk with it, Yukhei drags his mouth along Donghyuck’s jaw, down his neck, sucking at the skin there. 

When he bites down, harder than intended, Donghyuck squeezes his shoulder and pulls him away. “No marks, baby.” 

Disappointed, Yukhei just murmurs an apology against Donghyuck’s throat and kisses all over him. His wandering hands shove Donghyuck’s sweater up, exposing the warm, honey-toned skin underneath, and he ducks his head down to mouth at it, to lick at Donghyuck’s navel and nip at his ribs until Donghyuck is gasping and squirming. 

“Are you gonna just kiss me all day or are you gonna fuck me?” Donghyuck asks. Yukhei looks up at him through his lashes, and feels a quick, sharp tug of arousal at the way Donghyuck looks at him through hooded eyes. Dragging his mouth up Donghyuck’s chest, he presses a light kiss to Donghyuck’s left nipple, and Donghyuck arches up, letting out a breathless, beautiful sound that turns Yukhei’s blood into liquid flames. Wanting more, he shifts his attention to the right side, and is just as delighted to find that the gentle press of his mouth there makes Donghyuck shiver and gasp. 

“ _ Y-Yukhei-- _ ” Donghyuck whines, hips writhing, and Yukhei feels like he’ll go insane from the arousal. Shifting up, he takes Donghyuck’s mouth again in a deep, decadent kiss, letting his entire body weight settle over Donghyuck. He could come just from this, from the little mewls that escape Donghyuck’s mouth, the way his legs wind around Yukhei’s waist and hold him there. 

Needing respite, Yukhei drags his mouth away and tucks his face into Donghyuck’s neck, rutting desperately. He can feel Donghyuck’s pulse, the way his moans pitch higher and higher. 

“Yukhei,  _ l-lube, now-- _ ” Donghyuck gasps, and it takes all of Yukhei’s strength to pull away. 

“Where?” he rasps, and Donghyuck waves a hand in the vague direction of the side table beside them. Yukhei reaches over and pulls open the drawer, reaching blindly until his fingers wrap around the bottle. He doesn’t know why Donghyuck has lube in his living room, but he’s not in the state of mind to ask. 

Dropping the bottle on the couch, Yukhei pulls himself up to his knees and tugs at the hem of Donghyuck’s sweatpants, pulling them off his legs. He’s knocked breathless at the sight of Donghyuck, bare and painfully aroused. Donghyuck makes an impatient noise, nudging the heel of his foot into Yukhei’s thigh, but all Yukhei does is grab him by the ankle and press a kiss to the arch. Donghyuck’s toes curl, and he squirms, lip caught between his teeth. Yukhei kisses up Donghyuck’s leg, nipping at the skin there, until he’s nosing at the crease between his hip and his thigh. 

It’s only then that he notices Donghyuck’s entrance, stretched open and slick with lube. He pulls away, not sure if he’s disappointed or turned on. 

“What?” Donghyuck pouts. 

Yukhei frowns. “You prepped already?” 

Donghyuck makes an impatient noise. “Did you think I invited you here to chat?” 

Yukhei tries to clear the image of Donghyuck, lying in bed, with his lean, delicate fingers inside himself. “I mean-- I just thought--” Yukhei swallows thickly, intimidated by Donghyuck’s irritated look. “I wanted to do it myself.” 

“Don’t lie, Yukhei.” Donghyuck’s voice is low, dangerous. “I don’t like liars.” 

Yukhei is just confused now. “I’m not lying--?” 

Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “It’s just a waste of time.” 

“I don’t think it’s a waste of time…” Later, when Yukhei’s head isn’t swimming with arousal, he’ll realize this is a red flag. 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “That’s very sweet, but I need you to fuck me.  _ Now. _ ” 

The way Donghyuck spreads his legs in invitation is enough for Yukhei to forget his point. Swallowing thickly, he opens the bottle of lube and covers his fingers with it, before brushing his thumb against the pucker of Donghyuck’s entrance. Donghyuck lets out a sharp exhale, fingers digging into the leather underneath him. 

Testing, Yukhei slides a finger inside, meeting no resistance. He groans when Donghyuck’s walls constrict around the digit, velvety and warm, and searching for the remnants of his focus, he adds another. 

After a minute, Yukhei has a third finger inside, and is rubbing slow, teasing circles around Donghyuck’s prostate. He doesn’t get to enjoy the way Donghyuck’s hips buck up, the way his mouth opens in a silent moan, because Donghyuck is pushing his hand away. 

“That’s  _ enough. _ ” 

Yukhei isn’t exactly in a position to argue, so all he does is nod, and search blindly for the wallet in his pocket. He grabs a condom from inside it and tosses the wallet to the ground, ripping at the foil packet with his teeth. Donghyuck’s fingers work at his belt, and it feels like a replay of what happened in the library, but it’s so much  _ more _ now. 

Apparently he moves too slowly, because Donghyuck snatches the condom out of Yukhei’s hand, unzipping his slacks and pulling his cock out of his briefs. Yukhei grunts, screwing his eyes shut as Donghyuck’s expert fingers slide the condom over his length, messily slathering it with lube. 

“Fuck me, Yukhei.  _ Now. _ ” And what is Yukhei to do but obey? Bracing one hand on the couch, Yukhei guides his length to Donghyuck’s entrance, and takes an aborted breath, before pressing inside. 

It’s maddening, how good the slide feels. Donghyuck sucks him in eagerly, arms winding around Yukhei’s neck to pull him close. “Oh,  _ yes, _ ” Donghyuck moans, when Yukhei’s fully inside him. Yukhei pants harshly against Donghyuck’s neck, dizzy and paralyzed from pleasure. “You fill me up so well,” Donghyuck murmurs, carding his fingers through Yukhei’s hair. “Such a good boy.” 

Yukhei moans helplessly into Donghyuck’s shoulder, hips jerking of their own accord. Donghyuck lets out a gasp, then a laugh. “Come on, baby.” He coaxes Yukhei’s face up so their foreheads press together. “You’re going to fuck me just how I want it, aren’t you?” Yukhei feels on the verge of tears at the way Donghyuck speaks to him, gentle but condescending. He wants nothing more than to do exactly as Donghyuck says. 

“Y-Yes,” he gasps, trying not to fall apart at the way Donghyuck clenches around his length. 

“Then show me.” Donghyuck’s voice is firm, fingers tugging harshly at Yukhei’s hair. 

Unable to help himself, Yukhei slides out slowly, before slamming back in. For a moment, he watches the way Donghyuck’s mouth falls open, the way his head tilts back so far that their mouths brush. Yukhei does it again, and again, and again, snapping his hips harder with every thrust. 

“ _ Yes, yes, yes-- _ ” Donghyuck chants, eyes closed, mouth curled up into a smile as he loses himself in it, and it spurs Yukhei on. He pulls himself up and grips at Donghyuck’s hips, before thrusting in, faster and faster. Donghyuck keens, legs kicking out helplessly, but Yukhei just drives into him with single-minded focus. 

Everything is a blur of skin slapping on skin, Donghyuck’s babbling and Yukhei’s grunts of exertion. The orgasm builds quickly, like a rising tide, but Yukhei ignores it, wanting Donghyuck to come first. It takes a particularly vicious thrust, and Yukhei grinding deep, to have Donghyuck falling off the edge. His moan is pitched and broken as he arches up, hands scrambling for purchase. He clenches down on Yukhei like a vice, and he’s helpless as he reaches his own end. 

It’s almost too much, the way Donghyuck’s walls continue to flutter around him. Yukhei falls on top of Donghyuck with a grunt, suckling on his skin helplessly. His thoughts are static, his skin molten. There’s sweat beading at his temples, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“You--” Donghyuck sighs, fingers gentle as he strokes Yukhei’s hair. “Such a good boy, Yukhei. My good boy.” 

Yukhei screws his eyes shut and whines, wishing his cock didn’t twitch in interest at the words. But Donghyuck notices, because he notices everything. He wriggles his hips teasingly, and Yukhei groans, winded and overwhelmed. 

“You were so good, my baby boy,” Donghyuck coos, pressing fleeting kisses to Yukhei’s temple. His skin is on fire again, toes curling in pleasure. It takes all of his strength to drag himself up, ducking his head down to lick at the come sticking to Donghyuck’s stomach. He drags his tongue along the skin, swallowing everything, then looks up at Donghyuck, hoping for approval. 

He’s surprised to see a blank expression. “What did you do that for, baby?” Donghyuck asks quietly. 

Not sure if he’s done wrong, Yukhei drops kisses to Donghyuck’s chest. “Cleaning you up,” he mumbles, embarrassed. Donghyuck pushes him back, frowning. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

_ But I want to, _ Yukhei wants to whine. But Donghyuck is sitting up, forcing Yukhei to back away and pull out. He doesn’t speak as he pulls the condom off Yukhei, tying it up and tossing it into a wastebasket nearby. He gets up, and if Yukhei wasn’t so alarmed by the sudden change in mood, he’d be mesmerized by the way the sweater brushes against Donghyuck’s thighs. 

“You can find your own way out, right?” Donghyuck’s voice is light, neutral, like Yukhei hadn’t just fucked the daylights out of him. He looks at Yukhei over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah,” is all Yukhei can say, suddenly gutted. 

“Have a good night Yukhei.” And with that, Donghyuck walks out of the room, leaving Yukhei to his own devices. He doesn’t know what to do with the rush of emotions, the way nausea churns in his stomach. Yukhei had thought he’d seen it all, but he’s never been in a position like this. He glances around the empty room, clothes strewn everywhere, and the walls feel like they’re closing in on him. 

Johnny was right. He should have been more careful. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRAMA! INTRIGUE! SEX! 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hyuckheis) || [curious](https://curiouscat.me/hyuckheis)


	3. abracadabra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yukhei has seen enough to last several lifetimes. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t second-guess. He just does what needs to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mentions of drugs/drug use (not by xuxi) in this chapter,,, also au-typical violence/moral dubiousness  
thank u to dai for looking over this for me!!!!

The bouquet of sunflowers in Yukhei’s hand is beautiful. He’d seen them on display at the florist a block from his apartment and knew they were perfect. They’re so cheerful, bright and yellow and sunny, and they remind him of Donghyuck. But thinking of Donghyuck sours his mood, so he stops the thought in its tracks. 

“Are those for me?” is the first thing he hears when he steps into Cookie Jar.

Yukhei is greeted with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon, baby blue walls and pastel pink trim. He grins at Seulgi, peeking out at him from over the glass displays of cookies and cupcakes. “Who else would they be for?” He holds them out to her with a flourish. 

Seulgi coos over them. “How pretty.” She runs her fingers over the petals adoringly, before they catch on the small black thumb drive tucked into the stems. If anything, her smile grows wider. “I’m so glad you stopped by, Xuxi. What can I get you? It’s on the house.” 

Yukhei lets his eyes run over the gleaming displays, promising wonderful sugary goodness. There’s a small girl in pigtails next to him, begging her mother for a red velvet cupcake. Part of him feels like he shouldn’t even be allowed to step foot in this kind of establishment. It’s too innocent, too happy. 

But Seulgi is on the front lines of a very intricate underground network of informants, assuring that all communications and intel are passed through several unassuming hands, rendering the system completely untraceable. Yukhei’s just passed her a thumb drive with the most information yet.

Mark and Taeyong use a laptop to keep track of everything said and done by Ruby Dragon members. Yukhei sees it at every meeting, and Johnny informed him that it contained spreadsheets, videos, and images of every move the Ruby Dragon makes. A product of Taeyong’s neurosis, it’s also the perfect pile of evidence Yukhei needs. 

He’d worked quickly, with Johnny managing to distract Mark and Taeyong long enough for Yukhei to insert a small thumb drive, designed by their resident tech expert YangYang Liu, to copy every file on the laptop. And that thumb drive would likely pass through several more hands after Seulgi, before it reached YangYang for decryption. 

“The lemon poppyseed cupcake looks good,” Yukhei says, after a minute of deliberation. Seulgi smiles sweetly at him and grabs a to-go container. She hands it off to him with a steaming hot cappuccino and the assurance that his information will end up in the right hands. 

  
  


∞

  
  


Yukhei believes that ends justify the means. There are people in the world who will mull over the pros and cons of making decisions, who consider the costs, the morality of it all. Yukhei is not one of those people. He was recruited into the Black Ops  _ because _ he doesn’t spend time on those decisions. He believes strongly in a greater good, and understands his position in life is to maintain it, without overthinking the ethics. 

And that’s what stood out to Sooman Lee, when he recruited Yukhei into his underground task force. He needed someone who understood perspective, that there is right and wrong, and knew how to work in the fringes. 

Yukhei has seen enough to last several lifetimes. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t second-guess. He just does what needs to be done. 

Ultimately, his goal is to dismantle the Ruby Dragon from the inside out, to take down the leadership and expose the corruption that’s infected every facet of society. If he survives this, he gets no credit, because to answer to justice means answering for his own crimes, and that is something far too complicated to try and untangle. So if he survives, Yukhei will disappear into the shadows until his services are needed again. 

This is why he has no qualms about standing out here in the middle of the night at the docks with Johnny, overseeing the transportation of their drug shipment from China. Off the top of his head, he can think of at least thirty federal laws that he’s violating, just by being present. But ends justify the means. Ends always justify the means. 

“Did you get it done?” Johnny asks, blowing out a steady stream of cigarette smoke. His eyes never leave the men on the docks, who unload the wooden crates from the boat and into the backs of several vans. They work in an assembly-line, organized and efficient. They stay quiet, because they know better than to draw attention to themselves. 

Yukhei’s nose twitches. He’s never liked the smell of cigarettes, and he wasn’t aware Johnny smoked them, but maybe it’s a special occasion. If things go smoothly tonight, Yukhei might be allowed in some bigger jobs. “Yeah.” The smoke mixes with the salty ocean smell, and Yukhei isn’t a fan, but he ignores it. 

“How’s Seulgi?” 

“She’s good. Gotta try her cupcakes, man. To die for.” 

Johnny grins, tossing the cigarette butt to the ground and crushing it under the heel of his shoe. “If we get out of this whole thing alive, I’ll try one.”

“Mr. Seo, sir.” 

Johnny raises his eyebrows at one of the workers, who approaches them with wariness in his eyes. “What is it?” 

The man holds out a clear bag, with the smallest sample of white powder inside. Johnny takes the bag and opens it, sticking his pinky inside and licking the powder off. “Hm.” He smacks his lips and thinks for a moment, before nodding. “It’ll do.” 

The man bows his head and scurries off. “You scare the crap outta them,” Yukhei laughs. Johnny just shrugs and hands the bag to Yukhei. He shoves it into the pocket of his slacks as planned. 

A minute later, Johnny’s walkie talkie goes off. 

_ “Helicopter, heading in from the north. Looks like coast guard.” _

“Shit,” Johnny curses, lifting the talkie to his mouth. “Everyone clear out now. We got what we needed.” 

The men at the docks move impossibly quicker, loading the last of the shipment into the vans. They get in quickly and drive towards a large shipping container, while the boat speeds off towards the crowded civilian docks to hide out. Johnny’s talkie continues to go off, patrol guards warning everyone about the FBI closing in. 

Body surging with adrenaline, Yukhei glances up at the sky. He hears the helicopter before he sees it. The police sirens come after, growing louder and louder. The white vans drive into the freight container in a neat single file, and a guard closes the door behind them. In minutes, the vans will have navigated the underground maze built by the Ruby Dragon specifically for this, and be far away from the scene of the crime. 

“Well, this is why we plan.” Johnny tosses his walkie talkie into the water, and takes on an air of nonchalance, though he wears a troubled frown. Yukhei knows what he’s thinking: they were made. But how, and by who, is anyone’s guess right now. 

“FBI! Put your hands up where we can see them!” 

“Fuck--” Yukhei grits, as the spotlight shines down on them from the helicopter above and the armored cars in front of them. A dozen officers have guns pointed at them, and Yukhei has to suppress every urge to run. He works best on the fringes, like a shadow. Being caught police goes against all of his training. But he’s not Yukhei Wong, government assassin. He’s Yukhei Wong, rich fuckboy who chose the wrong path in life. 

“Put your hands where we can see ‘em!” someone yells, and Yukhei fights the urge to roll his eyes, putting his hands up. Men dressed in full combat gear approach them, and Yukhei grimaces as one of them yanks his hands behind his back to put them into handcuffs. 

“What’s going on here, officers?” For all intents and purposes, Johnny sounds sincere. But there’s humor dancing in his eyes. 

“We got a tip that the Ruby Dragon was receiving a drug shipment here tonight. Congrats, you punks are at the scene of the crime.” 

Yukhei glances around, making a show of his confusion. “I don’t see any drugs.” He grunts when one of the officers tugs roughly at his collar as another one pats him down.

“Don’t mouth off, kid.”

“Sir--” The officer patting Yukhei down draws out the small bag of cocaine from his pocket, and Yukhei’s lips twitch. 

“Damn, you caught us.” 

Johnny snorts. “We just came out here to have a little fun, officers. Didn’t realize we were walking in on a drug trade or whatever. Need a SWAT team for a tiny little bag of coke?” 

The man Yukhei assumes is the commanding officer narrows his eyes at them, irritated. “I’m taking you both in for questioning.”

  
  


∞

  
  


“What exactly were you doing out on the docks tonight?” 

Yukhei slouches in his seat, ass sore from sitting on the uncomfortable metal. He looks up at the man doing a poor job of interrogating him. He’d introduced himself as Detective Choi, and he has a thick mustache that curls up at the edges. 

“I told you, my cousin and I snuck out to do some coke.” 

Detective Choi narrows his eyes and leans across the table. He smells like stale coffee and sweat. The whole room smells like stale coffee and sweat. “You just… snuck out? What, did you hop a fence? How did you get into the facility?” 

Yukhei shrugs. “There’s some part of the fence on the south side that’s broken. People sneak through it all the time.” 

“And you just happened to be there  _ conveniently _ when a major drug trade was supposed to happen?” 

“I told you already, I don’t know anything about that.” 

If Yukhei was a normal undercover agent, he wouldn’t have to be doing this stupid dance. But the Ruby Dragon’s influence extends to all levels of law enforcement and government, it’s hard to tell who’s corrupt and who isn’t. He can count on both hands the number of people who know who he is and what he’s doing, and it’s better off this way. But being questioned like he’s a criminal feels laughably stupid. 

Detective Choi leans back against his own chair. He looks a little smug. Yukhei resists the urge to roll his eyes. “That cocaine you had in your pocket? We analyzed it. It’s the same kind distributed by the Ruby Dragon.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, man. I give the dealer the money, they give me the coke. That’s how it goes. Do you really think I would know or care where it comes from? You think I got a microscope or some shit in my apartment?” 

Detective Choi stares at Yukhei, like he’s trying to physically  _ see _ through the lie. But Yukhei has perfected his poker face, and he’s been through far more harrowing interrogations. This feels like child’s play. “Alright, kid. Let’s say you’re telling the truth.” He sits up and rests his elbows on the table. Yukhei just quirks an eyebrow. “Would you be willing to put that to the test?” 

Yukhei shrugs lazily. “Sure, whatever.” 

Detective Choi inhales sharply and rises, knocking on the mirror that Yukhei knows is one-way. It’s almost hilariously cliche how they have him handcuffed to the table, his every move being analyzed by government eggheads with PhDs who think they know what they’ve gotten themselves into. If Yukhei really wanted to, he’d have been out of these handcuffs and this precinct an hour ago. 

The door to the interrogation room opens, and it takes all of Yukhei’s years of training not to react when YangYang walks in, carting a polygraph machine. 

“This is Dr. Liu. He is a forensic tech expert with the FBI, and he’ll be conducting the polygraph test on you.” 

“Damn,” Yukhei drawls, eyeing the machine as Detective Choi and YangYang begin to hook wires to his fingers. “I must be in some deep shit if the FBI’s involved, huh?” 

“You have no idea, Mr. Wong.” 

Upon attaching all the electrodes to Yukhei’s fingers and forearm, YangYang shoots him a brief warning look. That’s all Yukhei gets in terms of acknowledgment, so he stays quiet as they finish setting up the machine. YangYang takes a seat across from Yukhei, pen poised as he eyes Yukhei’s vitals on the polygraph. 

“Please state your name and age.” 

“Yukhei Wong. I’m twenty five.” 

It’s always a little odd when YangYang gets serious. They’d spent too many years raising hell together, and sometimes it’s hard to separate his best friend from the competent professional in front of him. But Yukhei is a professional too. 

“Truth,” YangYang says, making a check mark on the readings. He’s got these wire-rimmed glasses on, and next time they’re in private, Yukhei’s gonna give him so much shit for it. “What were you doing on the docks, Mr. Wong?” 

The trick to polygraph tests is to relax and get as close to the truth as possible. It’s one of the very first things Yukhei was trained to do. “Johnny ‘n I were just hanging out. Work’s been stressful, yaknow? So we wanted to let loose a little.” Yukhei lets out a wry laugh. “Man, I didn’t even get to try the coke. Johnny got a taste and then you guys busted in.” 

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the sounds of the polygraph machine. Detective Choi watches YangYang closely, and his face pinches in irritation when YangYang says, “Truth.” Yukhei just shrugs. “Did you see any suspicious activity tonight?”

Yukhei tilts his head back and forth. “Depends on what you mean, I guess. There are a lot of weirdos at the docks at night.” He makes a show of thinking. “Maybe me and Johnny? We were gonna snort a couple lines. That’s suspicious, right?” 

Detective Choi rolls his eyes, and YangYang looks like he’s desperately trying to hold back a smirk. Yukhei scoots up in his chair. “Wait. Speaking of the coke, are we gonna get that back? Cuz that shit is expensive, I don’t want to waste it--”

“We’re done here,” Detective Choi spits, striding out the door and slamming it closed behind him. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Yukhei asks innocently. YangYang doesn’t say anything, he just unhooks Yukhei from the machine. The door opens, and another officer pokes his head in. 

“Dr. Liu, I’m supposed to take him to processing.” 

YangYang waves him off. “I’ll do it.” The officer shoots Yukhei a wary look. YangYang clicks his tongue, annoyed. “He’s just some slick-talking asshole, I think I can handle it. Go get a cup of coffee, Lieutenant.” 

“Y-yes sir.” 

YangYang shoots Yukhei a baleful look, before taking a key from his pocket and unlocking Yukhei’s handcuffs from the table. “Come on.” He grabs Yukhei by the scruff just to piss him off, and Yukhei gets to his feet, letting himself be dragged out of the interrogation room. 

“How’s it going, Dr. Liu?” Yukhei drawls as he’s led down the hallway. 

“Not bad. Some assfuck is giving me a headache cuz he got caught where he wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Not my fault we were made.” 

To YangYang’s credit, he doesn’t falter. “You think there’s another mole? In the Ruby Dragon?” 

Yukhei keeps his mouth shut as they pass several officers, cutting through the underground maze of the FBI facility they’re in. “There’s no one else who should have known about it, so yeah. There’s another mole.” 

“You better find them, quick. We’ve been doing this for too long for some rookie to get in there trying to be a martyr and ruin the whole thing.” YangYang tightens the grip he has on the back of Yukhei’s shirt. “You were cutting it close tonight.” 

“Well it’s a good thing you’re fucking good at your job, then.” As part of the Black Ops, Yukhei legally doesn’t exist. It had made creating his alias easier, but even then, he knows YangYang had to make his cover story airtight and leave no loose ends. 

“There’s one more thing.” YangYang pauses near the processing station, digging out a key to unlock Yukhei’s cuffs. When the metal comes off, Yukhei rubs at the chaffing on his wrists. “The drive was empty.” 

Yukhei casts a quick glance around the cluster of cubicles to make sure no one is listening. It’s the middle of the night on a Tuesday, so this part of the precinct is mostly empty. “What do you mean? There was nothing on the drive?” 

YangYang sighs and opens a file cabinet, taking out a stack of paperwork. He drops it onto a desk. “There was nothing on the fucking drive.” 

“That’s not possible.” Yukhei lowers himself onto the chair next to the table. “That computer has everything. I  _ see _ them save files on there.”

“Yeah, well, the diagnostic showed that everything that was on there was transferred to a hard drive last night. The only thing on the computer was some random accounting file. It didn’t make enough sense to do anything.”

“So they’re storing everything remotely.” Mechanically, Yukhei takes the pen YangYang offers him and scribbles his signature on the forms. “Wouldn’t Johnny have known that?”

YangYang shrugs. “Maybe it’s something the Lee brothers are keeping close to the vest. Either way--” He reaches into a drawer for a stamp and presses it down onto the front page of the paperwork. “You gotta figure out where they’re keeping those drives. We can’t do anything without them.” 

“Fuck,” Yukhei breathes. He should have expected something like this. Getting the thumb drive was almost laughably easy. “I’ll figure it out.” 

“You better.” YangYang’s eyes catch on something over Yukhei’s shoulder, so he turns to see Johnny approach. They’d interrogated him first, so Yukhei assumes he’s been waiting for a while. 

“Is he free to go?” 

“He’ll be fined for possession and loitering, but yeah. Don’t do drugs and all that crap.” 

Johnny nods imperceptibly to YangYang, then turns to Yukhei. “Alright kiddo, let’s get outta here.”   
  


∞

  
  


The blast from the gun nearly makes Taeyong fall over. In muted shock, he stares at the bullet hole in the wall, then at Donghyuck across the room, lounging in an armchair and sliding another bullet into his revolver. 

“For god’s sake, Donghyuck,” Taeyong chastizes. Donghyuck ignores him, clicking the cylinder back into place and spinning it, before aiming at the wall again. He pulls the trigger but no shot rings out. It takes three more attempted shots before the bullet shoots out and hits its mark, mere centimeters away from the first bullet hole. 

“Put the fucking gun away, Donghyuck.” Taeyong’s voice is louder this time around. Donghyuck arches an eyebrow at him, spinning the cylinder thoughtfully. He clicks it into place again and spins it, but instead of firing at the wall, he aims the gun directly at Taeyong’s head. 

An ice-cold chill travels down Taeyong’s spine. “Donghyuck.” He swallows down the urge to plead; he doesn’t trust his voice not to shake. 

“Is it your lucky day, Yongie?” Donghyuck wonders, voice light. He pulls back the safety, and Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut at the sound of the trigger. No bullet fires. He grips at the desk in front of him, knuckles white with fear and relief. 

“There wasn’t a bullet in there,” Taeyong murmurs. “You didn’t load it.” He tries valiantly not to sink down into the closest chair. “You wouldn’t kill me. You can’t.” 

Donghyuck tilts his head again. Nimble fingers eject the cylinder, and a bullet falls into Donghyuck’s waiting palm. “Can’t I?” 

Sick with nausea, Taeyong collapses into the chaise behind him. “You’re a fucking psychopath.” 

Donghyuck flashes his teeth, and to anyone too naive to notice, it would be sweet. Pretty. But Taeyong sees Donghyuck for what he is. “You made me this way.” His tone is light, conversational. “If there’s anyone to blame here it’s you and daddy dearest.” His eyes turn hard then, fingers loading another bullet, and this time, the gun fires on the first try. Taeyong barely has the time to duck before the bullet hits the wall behind him. 

“You’re expendable, Yongie. You should know that by now.”

Terror is something Taeyong has lived with for a long time. But never has he seen a physical manifestation of his fear quite like Donghyuck. But before he can say anything, the door to the parlor opens, and Mark walks in, followed by Johnny and Yukhei. 

“--lucky we planned for this shit,” Mark finishes. He looks at Taeyong, whose face is pale, eyes unfocused, and his gaze immediately goes to Donghyuck, sitting across an armchair with his feet hanging over the arm, inspecting his nails. 

“Everything okay?” He asks, wary. 

Taeyong blinks and clears his throat. “It’s fine.” He turns to Johnny and Yukhei, inspecting them for any injuries. “Are you guys okay?” 

“We’re fine,” Johnny says, his smile warm and reassuring. “We always plan for the worst-case scenario. But the fact that it happened…” Everyone knows what he means. They have a mole in their ranks. It’s going to be a massive headache, trying to figure out who.

“Why don’t we go to my office and talk about it?” Taeyong suggests, eyes darting to Donghyuck for a split second. 

Johnny nods. “Yukhei, you stay here, okay?” 

“Sure,” he murmurs. He waits until the door is closed behind them to walk over to the seat by the large windows. The sun is about to rise, and the view from the mansion is too gorgeous to pass up. 

“Why’re you sitting so far away?” 

Yukhei only spares Donghyuck a glance. It’s an added bonus that his spot at the window is the furthest he can get from Donghyuck. “I’m watching the sun rise.” 

He hears the pad of Donghyuck’s footsteps getting closer, smells that milky sweet scent, feels the cushion dip beside him. “What was it like?” 

Yukhei raises an eyebrow, finally looking at Donghyuck properly. “What was what like?” Donghyuck’s sheer beauty hurts, like a knife twisting in Yukhei’s stomach. In a billowy silk shirt, kneeling on the couch and facing Yukhei with wide, inquisitive eyes, he looks like a dream. It takes all of Yukhei’s willpower to drag his gaze away, but not before seeing Donghyuck’s lips twitch. 

“Jail.” 

Yukhei sighs. “There are a lot of places you don’t seem to know about.” 

Donghyuck’s peal of laughter sounds like bells. “I’m never gonna go to jail.” His knees press against Yukhei’s thigh as he leans in, and Yukhei curls his hands into fists to keep from touching.

“Well, find someone else to explain it to you.” Yukhei doesn’t mean to sound short, and he’s the last person to lose his temper, but the night Donghyuck fucked him and left him hanging hurts. It hurts more than Yukhei thought it would, for more than one reason. 

“Aww,” Donghyuck coos. “Is someone grumpy cuz they got arrested?” His condescending tone just grates on Yukhei more. “Are you tired?” He leans in, nose brushing against Yukhei’s temple. “I could probably wake you up--” He presses his hands to Yukhei’s crotch, but Yukhei grabs him by the wrist and levels him with a warning look. 

“Quit it.” 

Donghyuck’s mouth opens in shock, like he wasn’t expecting to be on the receiving end of Yukhei’s ire. “What crawled up your ass?” he asks, irritated, and snatches his hands away. 

“I just don’t wanna deal with you right now, okay?” 

Donghyuck scoffs in disbelief. “You don’t want to  _ deal _ with me? I’m your fucking boss.” 

Yukhei’s eyes flash with anger. “I work for Mark and Taeyong. Not you. I’m not your fucktoy.” 

“My  _ fucktoy. _ Now there’s a word.” Donghyuck ponders over the words, swiping his tongue over his teeth. Not too gently, he grabs Yukhei by the chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “You forget your place, Yukhei Wong. I can do whatever I want with you.” 

“I know you don’t give a shit about me,” Yukhei grits, tugging his face free of Donghyuck’s grip. “But  _ I _ care about me. And  _ I _ don’t want to do this anymore. Not your way.”

" _ My _ way? What the hell is my way?” Donghyuck fake-gasps. “Oh no. Did you want to snuggle after sex? Is that why you’re so upset? You wanted kisses and hugs? How  _ sweet. _ ” 

Yukhei narrows his eyes at Donghyuck, truly angry now. “I almost went into subspace. I would have dropped.” Donghyuck’s face is carefully blank. “So no, I don’t want to do it your way. Find someone else to fuck over.” 

“You’re telling me no.” His voice is flat, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. 

“I’m telling you no,” Yukhei confirms. “I know you’re not used to hearing it. But you can’t always get what you want.” Part of him wonders if he’s pushed too far, but it’s too late now. It’s rare that his anger gets the best of him, but Donghyuck turns his world upside down, pushes buttons that he didn’t know he had. It’s too dangerous to be involved with him, for more than one reason. Yukhei can see that clearly now.

Donghyuck opens his mouth, then closes it. Then he laughs. He presses his knuckles to his mouth like he’s trying to muffle the giggles. Yukhei shoots him an irritated look, but tries to focus on the way the sky turns from purple to red to orange. His whole body feels overheated from humiliation and frustration. 

“You are such a stupid little boy.” Yukhei tries not to be affected by the words. Donghyuck makes him feel juvenile and brainless, when he knows he’s anything but. That’s the dangerous part-- Donghyuck turns him into someone Yukhei doesn’t recognize. Donghyuck sighs, like Yukhei is a lost cause, and gets up. Yukhei listens to the way Donghyuck’s footsteps grow more distant, until the door opens and closes. He’s left alone to wonder what punishment awaits him next. 

  
  


∞

  
  


Donghyuck bursts into Taeyong’s office, not bothering to knock. 

Mark makes a noise of protest immediately. “Donghyuck, we’re in the middle of--”

“I want Yukhei.” 

There is a pregnant pause. Donghyuck keeps his expression carefully neutral. Johnny is the first to recover. “Pardon?” 

Donghyuck arches an eyebrow in his direction, before facing Mark and Taeyong. “I want Yukhei,” he repeats. 

“For-- for what?” Mark splutters. 

“This weekend for the gala to start. Let’s call it…” Donghyuck taps his mouth with a finger. “Private security detail?”

“With all due respect, Hyuck, Yukhei isn’t--” Donghyuck’s sharp look is enough to quiet Johnny. 

“Yukhei isn’t a bodyguard for hire,” Mark finishes, having grown more of a spine lately.

Donghyuck just shrugs. “So what? I want him.” 

“That’s not like you, Donghyuck,” Taeyong says, choosing his words carefully, something like understanding in his eyes. “Showing your hand like that. Weakness is dangerous in our line of work.” 

“Oh, you think--” Donghyuck tilts his head back and laughs. “You think I  _ care _ about Yukhei?” He ignores the way Johnny winces. “You think I’m in love with him and that you can use him to control me?” He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “That’s hilarious.” 

“He could be a real asset to this family, Donghyuck,” Mark argues. “And you’re just going to chew him up and spit him out?” 

Donghyuck blinks innocently. “I only asked to borrow him for the weekend.” 

Mark clicks his tongue. “Don’t insult our intelligence, please. We know what you’re doing.”

Donghyuck smile goes razor-thin. “I’m only asking as a courtesy.” He glances at the other men in the room. Johnny’s face is pinched, and Donghyuck almost feels sorry for him. Of all the men in this godforsaken family, he likes Johnny the most. “You’re not going to try and say no, are you?” 

Taeyong sighs, dragging hands over his tired face. “You always get what you want, don’t you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but it makes Donghyuck’s lips twitch in genuine amusement. “I always do.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know your thoughts/theories in the comments!!!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hyuckheis) || [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hyuckheis)


	4. a common love story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a jaemin interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent written in 5 months [silence]

Jaemin Na knows he’s a badass. 

You don’t live your entire life on the streets, where most people live fast and die young, and not be assured of your ability to survive, to thrive. He’d killed his first man when he was six, after his shit excuse for a stepfather had finished pounding on his mom. Shards of an empty bottle of cheap tequila had been on the floor, and made for a convenient weapon. 

The bastard never saw it coming. 

Picking pockets and running small cons could only sustain him and his mom for so long. He’d started running for the Ruby Dragon when he was fourteen. In eight years, he’s nearly died three times, been shot, stabbed, broken half his fingers and four ribs. Working for the mob cost him, but it’s nothing compared to what he gained. He’d been nothing but loyal to the Lee family, and they’d rewarded him by promoting him, one step closer to the inner circle. 

Unlike bastards like Yukhei Wong, who shot straight to the top because he had connections, Jaemin worked his way from the ground up. By his estimation, that made him twice the man Yukhei was, even if he was a dead shot, and had somehow passed an FBI lie detector test, if the rumors were true. 

Well, it didn’t matter. As long as they stayed out of each other’s way, Yukhei Wong wouldn’t have to be more than a blip on Jaemin’s radar. 

“I’m sorry, miss, your card’s been declined.” 

Jaemin blinks his eyes into focus. The barista holds out the card to the girl at the register, face sympathetic. 

“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry. Let me try this one.” The girl digs around in her cat-printed wallet and takes out another card. The barista slides it through the machine and gets back a foreboding beep. 

“That one isn’t working either.” 

“It’s okay, I have another one--”

Jaemin takes the chance to take in the girl in front of him. What starts out as cursory glance soon becomes pure appreciation. Ebony black hair, pulled into a loose braid that swings down to her lower back, legs for days and a  _ very _ nice ass, put on display by a pair of shorts that has Jaemin praising the gods. 

“I am  _ so _ sorry--” 

“Put it on my card,” Jaemin says, going with impulse and reaching over the girl’s shoulder to hand his card to the frazzled barista. “And add a large iced americano with four extra espresso shots to that. For Jaemin.” 

“I can’t let you do that.” 

Jaemin looks down at the girl, and feels a jolt, right in his gut. Her backside had been a treat, but the rest of her is a vision. Boxy glasses frame wide, dark eyes, a pert nose, and high lovely cheekbones, and a perfect, plush mouth, currently pressed together in displeasure. 

“Would you like a receipt?” the barista asks, eyes widening at the girl’s scathing, accusatory look. 

“That’s alright. Thanks so much.” With a wink, Jaemin guides the girl out of the line and towards the pickup counter. 

“That was really rude,” the girl says, tugging herself free of Jaemin’s grip. There’s a picture of a cartoon kitten on her oversized pastel sweater, and Jaemin grins at it. 

“What was rude was you holding up that line. You should probably call your bank and get that card business figured out.” 

Clearly embarrassed, the girl ducks her head, tucking a stray wisp of that gorgeous hair behind her ear. “I will,” she grumbles, before looking up, eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t have paid for my drink. I had the cash.” 

Jaemin smirks and slides his hands into his pockets. “I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.” He reaches out and flicks a finger at the lock of hair that’s come loose again.

“It’s hard to feel grateful when you didn’t give me a choice.” 

“I know how you can make it up to me,” Jaemin presses on, ignoring the way the girl’s eyes flash. “How about a date? To start.” He levels her with the full force of his grin, guaranteed to stop hearts. 

“Are you… actually hitting on me?” The girl asks carefully, dragging the words out like Jaemin is particularly dim-witted. His smile falters.

“Well then, how about a name to put with that pretty face?” 

“How about you leave me alone, and I don’t take out the pepper spray in my bag?” 

That wipes the grin right off Jaemin’s face. “Hey now. No need to get testy.”

The barista at the pickup counter calls out his name, and the girl shoots him a dirty look before picking up her drink. “God, I really hope you don’t always try to pick up girls like this--” She reads the name on the cup, “--Jaemin.” 

And without another word, she strides out the door with those tragically gorgeous legs, and Jaemin is left staring after her, the hints of jasmine perfume still in the air. 

  
  


∞

  
  


Jaemin stands on the second-floor balcony of the warehouse, watching as rows and rows of people wearing masks and gloves carefully weigh out white powder, packaging them into plastic bags and sealing them shut. The harsh fluorescent light makes their skin look pale and sickly. It’s a hard job, Jaemin knows, because he’s been down there himself. 

Years of hard work, wheedling, and not a little blood on his hands had brought him here, standing above it all. 

“One day, boy, all of this will be yours.” Jaemin endures a firm smack to his shoulders from his boss. With a rotund belly protruding over his belt, and eyes sunken from enjoying too much of his own product over the years, Haejin Kim is the Ruby Dragon’s chief of drug operations. He’s also the closest thing Jaemin has to a father. 

Mobs, like all businesses, operate on nepotism. It’s something Jaemin learned long ago. It had taken time and patience to work his way into Haejin’s good graces. It was just one step out of many to work his way into the Ruby Dragon’s inner circle. Once Haejin retired, Jaemin would take over the drug operation as his heir. 

It soothes some of the sting he feels from his earlier encounter at the coffee shop. For the first time, quite possibly, in his entire life, Jaemin had been thoroughly curved. It shouldn’t be possible. He’s handsome, he’s working his way to becoming quite rich, and he dresses immaculately. The girl was in a cat-printed sweater, for god’s sake. It just didn’t add up. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself, when he finds himself going to the coffee shop at the same time every day for the next week, hoping to see her again. 

When he walks in on the following Tuesday, promising himself that this is the last time, and sees the girl sitting at a table by the window, he considers it fate. 

Completely absorbed by whatever is on her cat sticker-covered laptop, she doesn’t notice Jaemin pause in front of her. Her distraction gives him enough time to admire. She’s put all that gorgeous hair in a messy topknot, wayward strands framing her elfin face. Jaemin’s never had a particular taste for the intellectual type, but the glasses do something to his gut that he just can’t ignore. 

Clearing his throat, he slides into the chair opposite her, and the motion makes her look up, squinting cutely, and Jaemin watches as she registers his face, lips pursing in disdain. 

“Oh. It’s you.” 

Jaemin tries not to outwardly wince at the direct and efficient hit to his ego. “Now, now, darling. Don’t get too excited.” Watching the girl reach into her bag, Jaemin thinks of pepper spray and puts his hands up. “Hey, take it easy. I came here to apologize.” With narrowed eyes, the girl takes her hand out of her bag.

Jaemin sits forward with a huff. It’s a cold day in hell for sure, with the way he’s suddenly apologizing to pretty girls for harmlessly flirting. “I didn’t realize it was a crime, but I’m sorry for buying you coffee.”

The girl rolls her eyes. Jaemin spreads his palms out in a gesture of good faith. “I’m sorry for seeing a beautiful girl in a coffee shop and wanting to flirt with her a little.” 

“You’re doing a really bad job of apologizing, just so you know,” the girl says, but her lips are twitching. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you. Looking like that, I figured you get hit on all the time.” The cutely baffled look that she gives Jaemin endears him. It also motivates him. 

“I don’t…” 

“Well now, that’s just a crime. Clearly I have to fix that.” 

“I don’t come to a coffee shop to get hit on.” 

Jaemin tuts. “An unfortunate side effect of being beautiful, I’m afraid.” He watches with satisfaction as a shy smile blooms across her face. Clearly, he hasn’t lost his touch. 

“You’re corny,” the girl says. Jaemin shrugs and relaxes into his chair. “And trouble.” 

He flashes his teeth. “You can tell?” 

“You have a tattoo--” She taps on the back of her hand, and Jaemin looks at his own, seeing the colorful head of a red dragon baring its teeth across his skin. “You’re in that dragon gang, aren’t you?” 

This time, Jaemin really does wince. “The Ruby Dragon is a serious business enterprise.” 

At that, the girl snorts. “Yeah, right.” 

“No, really. It’s very lucrative and everything is perfectly legitimate.” The girl clearly doesn’t believe him, but the ice is thawing. “I’m realizing now that I’m at a disadvantage.” 

The girl quirks a brow. “Oh?”

“You know who I am, you know what I do. But I don’t even know your name.” 

The girl bites her lip, and Jaemin sees the conflict in her eyes. Finally, she says, “Jeno. I’m Jeno.” 

“Well, Jeno--” Jaemin takes her hand and brushes a kiss against her knuckles. “It’s going to be an absolute pleasure.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A QUESTION-- it's been ages and ages but for those of you who gave your guesses about who the mole is from the previous chapter, could you explain your reasoning? im super curious TT it won't change anything, but i love to know your thoughts. until next time, which hopefully wont be half a year from now TT______TT i hope everyone is staying safe and that you and your loved ones are healthy !!!


	5. fxxk u

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! so this chapter has a bit of a trigger warning-- ill put it in the end notes in case you dont want a spoiler

Yukhei rarely gets angry. 

Growing up he’d been happy-go-lucky, because pessimism on the streets was a one-way ticket to death. He’s a master of compartmentalization, and he’d learned to use it every time he was on a mission. He can take a life in a second, and sleep easy that night. Seeing the worst humanity could offer taught him to value the moments in between, the moments worth living for. 

Resilience. Yukhei’s life has taught him to be resilient. 

Maybe it’s his resilience that makes him so good at undercover work. Turning his emotions on and off at the drop of a hat is a skill not everyone knows how to utilize, but Yukhei utilizes it well. 

But Donghyuck Lee… Donghyuck Lee leaves him feeling scraped out and hollow, ragged and furious, desperate and blind with lust in a matter of seconds. He can’t get a handle on himself, and it’s made him reckless. He’s never met someone who could drag everything out of him like this. It’s made more dangerous because Donghyuck  _ knows. _ He knows what he does to Yukhei, and that’s lethal.

It’s hard to accept that he’d made a mistake. Seven years as a deep state operative and government-sanctioned assassin, posts in war-torn countries, blood on his hands, and he’s undone by a pretty face.

Figures.

Walking up the steps to Donghyuck’s cheerful townhouse, Yukhei estimates he has about fifteen seconds after ringing the doorbell to bank down the seething fury inside him. Donghyuck only gives him ten. 

“Well, hello handsome.” 

Like a rose, is Yukhei’s first thought, as he takes in the sight of Donghyuck in a pitiful excuse for a silk robe. He leans against the doorframe, the picture of casual grace and sensuality. Donghyuck shifts, and the silk slides teasingly off a shoulder. If Yukhei didn’t know any better, he’d think it was an accident. And despite knowing better, his throat goes dry. Donghyuck is rose, alright. A rose covered in thorns.

“Mr. Lee.” 

Donghyuck’s pretty lips pull into a pout. He must have put something on them, to make them shine that way. “Yukhei, don’t be like that.” He reaches out to grab Yukhei’s wrist and tugs him inside. He lets Donghyuck do it because he might get shot otherwise. 

The inside of the house remains unchanged, but this time, Yukhei sweeps his eyes across everything with a critical gaze. The happy Shasta daisies on the kitchen counter feel like a mockery. 

“Would you like a drink?” Donghyuck asks, smiling like a picture-perfect host. Yukhei barely suppresses the scowl. 

“No, thank you.” 

Donghyuck sighs. “Don’t be such a party-pooper, Yukhei. If you’re going to act like that all night, you might as well stay at home.” 

The grin comes quickly. “It would be my pleasure.” 

“If you keep acting like that, I’ll have Johnny shot in the face. How about that?” 

“I hate you,” Yukhei says so honestly, he surprises himself. 

At that, Donghyuck tilts his head back and laughs. “Tell me something I don’t know, handsome. Come upstairs.” 

“I’ll stay here.” 

Donghyuck’s eyes narrow. “You want to change in the kitchen, suit yourself.” 

Yukhei looks down at his tuxedo, impeccably tailored in an unobtrusive black. “I’m already dressed.” 

“I had something made for you.” Donghyuck bats his eyelashes with an innocence almost believable. “We have to match, Yukhei. What will everyone think?” 

Yukhei only thinks of Johnny’s face, stained with blood, pale in death, and follows Donghyuck up the stairs. On the windowsill by the landing are money plants, vibrant and green, their vines tumbling to the ground. The entire second floor is the same, covered by plants standing tall and proud in bright, cheerful pots. Yukhei finds them very ironic. 

Donghyuck leads him into a room that can only be his, because his scent is strongest here. It takes him a matter of seconds to take in the massive four-poster bed, a sprawling vanity, more plants. 

“Here we are.” Donghyuck unhooks a garment bag from a hook on the wall and lays it across the emerald green bedspread. He unzips it to reveal a tuxedo in midnight blue, the fabric almost velvety. Yukhei’s fingers twitch, eager to touch, and hates himself for appreciating the cut, the color. He can feel Donghyuck’s eyes on him, expectant, so he tries to neutralize his interest. 

“It’s alright.”

Donghyuck snorts, rolling his eyes. “Sure it is. Try it on.” 

“You don’t know it’ll fit.” 

“Of course I do. You’ll find I’m pretty good at these things.” 

Sighing, Yukhei zips up the garment bag and drapes it over his arm. “Got a bathroom I can change in?” 

Donghyuck’s smile is razor-sharp. “I was going to suggest stripping for me right here but I know how to pick my battles.” Yukhei’s eye twitches and Donghyuck laughs, obviously pleased with himself. “You can change in the guest bedroom.” 

“I’m not a fucking doll,” Yukhei mumbles to himself, struggling with the cuffs of the dress shirt. He spares himself a glance in the mirror of the en suite bathroom, and hates that he likes how the tuxedo fits across his shoulders, tapers at his waist. As someone who had accepted his good looks and used them when necessary, Yukhei could afford to be a little vain about his body, and the way it looks in a suit. 

Yukhei scowls at himself, sighing in disgust. Donghyuck didn’t miss a trick. 

“The gala will be over by the time you’re done in here.” 

Yukhei’s head snaps to the doorway, ready to bare his teeth, and feels every drop of blood drain out of him instead. Oh, their outfits matched alright. If he could call the glittering, flowing pantsuit with the high collar and bell sleeves a match and not a work of art. 

Like a shark smelling blood, Donghyuck grins, no doubt enjoying Yukhei’s stupefied look. He holds out his arms and does a turn, and Yukhei feels another jolt when it exposes a completely open back, all smooth honey-toned skin and an arching spine. “What do you think?”

Struggling not to swallow his own tongue, Yukhei shrugs and turns back to the mirror. Feeling exposed, he rushes to button his shirt all the way up, and hates the way his hands tremble for a moment. 

“Let me,” Donghyuck says, slipping in the narrow space between Yukhei and the counter. With no space between them, it’s hard not to notice all the details. Donghyuck’s hair, feathery and soft, is parted neatly at the side, the fringe falling artfully over his forehead. He’d swiped something shiny over his eyelids, across his sharp cheekbones. His scent, roses and cream, sticks cloyingly to Yukhei’s throat. And his body is warm and tempting, all compact, graceful lines, and Yukhei has to fist his hands to keep from putting them somewhere he might regret. 

“I underestimated how good this would look on you,” Donghyuck says, voice smooth as the silk wrapped around his throat. His fingers are nimble and practiced as he works his way up the buttons of Yukhei’s shirt, taking the time to brush them across the exposed skin of Yukhei’s chest until he gets to the collar. “So handsome,” he murmurs, almost thoughtfully, as he rubs his thumb over Yukhei’s throat, eyes glued to his mouth. 

It takes all of Yukhei’s willpower not to get caught up in the desire wreaking havoc in his gut. “Don’t,” he warns, his hand tightening around Donghyuck’s wrists, and it throws him, how small they are, how easy they would be to break, if he applied just the right amount of pressure. 

Donghyuck bites his lip, batting his eyelashes at Yukhei. “Don’t what?” 

“Don’t try to get me into bed.” 

Donghyuck’s lips twitch up. “The counter will do.” 

“I won’t sleep with you again, Donghyuck.” His grip around Donghyuck’s wrists tighten. “Do you understand that no means no?” 

It surprises Yukhei to see the righteous fury in Donghyuck’s eyes, the angry stain of color in his cheeks. “I know what fucking consent is, you bastard.” He tugs his hands out of Yukhei’s grip and shoves him away. “I don’t force myself on anyone. I don’t need to.” 

Yukhei watches Donghyuck storm out and finds himself more confused than irritated by the one-eighty. “Don’t bother, Wong,” he tells himself, adjusting his collar and working the fabric at his throat into a neat bow. He pulls on his gun holster, then his suit jacket. “God knows what goes on in that brain.” 

  
  


∞

  
  


“On bodyguard duty, Wong?” 

Yukhei raises an eyebrow at Jaemin, who holds the passenger door of the black SUV open. “Something like that.” He’s known many Jaemins in his time-- cocky, full of hot air, not quite able to hold in the gleam of ambition and envy from their eyes. Yukhei doesn’t give him more than a moment’s consideration. 

And knowing casual dismissal when he sees it, Jaemin grits his teeth. 

Until he sees Donghyuck. 

“Well well well, would you look at that,” Jaemin says, whistling through his teeth. Donghyuck grins at him, taking the offered hand to be guided into the car. “You’re a vision.” 

“Thank you, darling.” Settling into the backseat, Donghyuck pats Jaemin’s cheek absently. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late.” 

“I’ll get you where you need to go, honey.” 

Amused by the flirtation, Donghyuck’s lips twitch. “I certainly hope so.” 

“I don’t know why you need Wong, Donghyuck,” Jaemin says, easing out of parking and onto the narrow street. “If you needed a date, I would have been more than happy to oblige.” 

Settling back against the plush black leather, Donghyuck smiles. “I’m sure you would have.” 

“Though, to be honest… I’m kinda seeing someone right now. It’s nothing serious yet, but I figured I should let you know. In case there was anything you wanted to, you know, confess.” Smiling winningly at the rearview mirror, he merges into traffic. 

“Jaemin?” Donghyuck asks, voice warm as he reaches over to the control panel in the back. 

“Yeah?” 

With the press of a button, a partition comes down from the top. “Goodbye.” 

It takes all of Yukhei’s willpower not to grin at Jaemin’s indignance, or Donghyuck’s sigh of relief once the partition blocks out the sounds. “That’s much better, isn’t it?” Yukhei just shrugs, running a hand over his mouth to disguise the smile. 

“He’d give you his heart on a platter if you asked.” 

“A lot of people would,” Donghyuck says with a dismissive wave. “Jaemin’s a little too honest for my taste.” 

_ Oh Lord, _ Yukhei thinks.  _ We’re a match made in heaven. _

“Jaemin wouldn’t be able to, let’s say, pass a lie detector test.” Donghyuck inspects Yukhei over his nails. “Where’d you learn that little trick?” 

Yukhei opens his mouth to give a bullshit excuse about Johnny training him when he was younger, but the words die on his tongue. He hadn’t told anyone about the lie detector test. Eyes narrowed, he studies Donghyuck. “How the hell did you know that?” 

Donghyuck blinks innocently at him. “Don’t be stupid, Yukhei. At least two of the agents on the other side of that interrogation room are on Ruby Dragon payroll.” Then, settling back against the seat, Donghyuck smiles. “And another three are on mine.” 

Heart slamming against his ribs, head spinning, Yukhei tries to interpret the words in a way that makes sense. In his silence, Donghyuck goes on, “Detective Choi... “ He laughs. “Now that’s a tough nut to crack. He’s so… honorable. Honest. Men like that don’t make sense to me.” 

Like an audible click, things slide into place. “You were the mole.” 

Donghyuck arches an eyebrow, regal and amused. “A  _ mole. _ Now that’s a hell of a word.” He flips his hands to inspect his nails, casual and relaxed, while Yukhei burns up from the inside out. “That would imply I’m working for the good guys.” He slants Yukhei a bland look. “I’m definitely not.” 

Praying for even a semblance of clarity, Yukhei grits, “Then why?”

“You came up the ranks quickly, didn’t you? Not that nepotism isn’t uncommon in this line of work. But you just came out of nowhere. Everybody seems to trust you. I just wanted to make sure.” 

Yukhei wants to tug viciously at the bowtie wrapped around his throat like a vice. “So what was it then? Some sort of fucked up test?” 

Donghyuck smiles, slow and sweet. “You get a gold star, darling.” 

“The whole thing could have been busted. We could have lost millions in product, a lot of good men would have been arrested.” 

“Occupational hazard.” He pats Yukhei’s thigh patronizingly. “My brothers are idiots, but you can’t fault their logistics. No one was going to get caught.” 

“Except me.” 

“Except you. And you did wonderfully.” 

“I really really hate you.”

Donghyuck tilts his head back and laughs. “Get in line, darling. Oh, look,” Donghyuck glances out the window as the SUV comes to a stop. “We’re here.” Reaching forward, he pats Yukhei’s cheek. “Now be a good boy and behave, alright? You don’t want to know what’ll happen if you cross me.”

Yukhei has to swallow back every urge to wrap his hands around Donghyuck’s pretty little neck. It’s only years of training and a lifetime of pretenses that allow Yukhei to take a deep breath and school his expression to something other than mutinous rage. 

He steps out of the car on his side, then walks around to the other to open Donghyuck’s door. He keeps his face carefully blank as Donghyuck takes his hand and steps out of the vehicle and takes his elbow. They pose for pictures for the press lined up like vultures outside the Governor’s mansion, before being escorted inside. 

Yukhei’s been to a number of functions like this, wearing different identities the way a normal person might wear clothes. Once, he had been a racecar driver in Monaco, on a hot streak both on and off the tracks. Another time, he’d been an oil baron, negotiating fracking rights past the Pacific coast. Never in his life had he been dragged by his metaphorical ear to one by the youngest brother of a mob family who’d decided Yukhei was going to be his boy toy. 

In the end, it’s all the same. The sprawling foyer is done in opulent whites and golds. Wealthy, important guests socialize, scheme, and backstab underneath a Waterford chandelier. The lightest notes of an orchestra drift from the open ballroom doors. Yukhei recognizes Congressmen, CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, celebrities young and old. And Donghyuck fit right in, flitting from group to group, greeting society luminaries like old friends. 

“Come on, dear, I want some champagne,” Donghyuck says, promising a dance to a hotel heiress old enough to be his mother before dragging Yukhei away. The ballroom is a vision of sprawling white marble floors, gilded gold columns, and roses in large urns, guarding French double doors like sentries. Yukhei estimates there are about four hundred guests in the house, in addition to a very well-oiled and unobtrusive security detail. 

He knows how to do the whole song and dance, and oftentimes, he enjoys it. But Donghyuck’s presence makes his mouth sour in a way that even the best alcohol can’t wash away. 

“You’re awfully friendly with these government types,” Yukhei notes, taking the glass of champagne Donghyuck presses into his hand. 

“Surprised?” Donghyuck asks over the rim of his own glass. 

Yukhei shrugs. “It’s ironic.” 

“I beg your pardon.” Donghyuck puts a mock-offended hand to his heart. “The Ruby Dragon is the largest international shipping and freight company in the country.” Taking a sip of his drink, his gaze roves the crowd in what would look like casual interest, if not for the calculated gleam in his eyes. “So many legislators have a vested interest in what comes in and out of our ports.” 

“Of course,” Yukhei says dryly, fingering the stem of his glass, now wet with condensation. “And you needed me here because…?” 

Donghyuck smiles, bright and sunny. “Because I like making you angry, Yukhei. You so rarely lose your temper. It makes me feel special.” 

“You’re batshit crazy.” 

That gets a delighted peal of laughter out of Donghyuck. “I’m so happy you finally noticed. Let’s go mingle some more, shall we?” 

  
  


∞

  
  


Yukhei notices things very quickly. Maybe because he’s a people person, and he understands them, it’s easy to pick up on their quirks, to see their motivations, their secrets, their resentments, their desires. Donghyuck seems to invoke all of these feelings in equal measure.

Yukhei notices men twice, thrice Donghyuck’s age eyeing him in a way that makes something slimy stick at the back of his throat. He notices jealous mistresses, ignorant wives, turn a blind eye to their husbands’ appreciative gazes, the way their hands linger on Donghyuck for too long. Despite his own anger, ten minutes into the ball, Yukhei wants to wrap Donghyuck up from head to toe and get him as far away from these men as possible. 

It had been too much. Yukhei considers it a strategic retreat when Donghyuck had patted his cheek again and told him to, “Go have a snack, darling.” So he loiters by the hors d’oeuvres, gets tangled into a conversation with a trust fund kid from a banking family about football, and watches Donghyuck flirt outrageously with Senator Whitcomb while his wife stands at his side. 

“He’s fascinating, isn’t he?” 

Yukhei turns his attention from the antipasto on his plate to the woman who’s slid up next to him. He raises an eyebrow, and the woman juts her chin in Donghyuck’s direction. 

“Every time I see him at these things I wonder who he’s going to do next.” 

Yukhei coughs on an olive. “Who?” 

The woman smiles blandly. “Did I say who? A slip of the tongue.” Yukhei’s eyes dart to Donghyuck, who leans cozily into the good senator’s side and whispers something that makes his cheeks go red. Pulling away, Donghyuck winks at the senator and walks out of the ballroom. A number of reputable moments later, the senator pulls away from his wife and trails in Donghyuck’s wake. Something twists in Yukhei’s gut, like nausea, but far more debilitating. 

“Hook, line, and sinker.” The woman pats Yukhei’s arm consolingly. “It’s not your fault, sweetie. He’s always liked them older. And married.” 

Yukhei stares down at his plate, and wonders if he’ll ever want to eat ever again. 

“Wanna dance?” 

“Hm?” Yukhei blinks at the woman. She’s petite, in a black silk dress that dips provocatively in the front and the back, and long raven hair pulled elegantly into a twist. Despite the red lips and the squared shoulders, Yukhei guesses she can’t be much older than Donghyuck. 

“Wanna dance?” she repeats. “It might be a good distraction.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yukhei sets his plate down on the table and holds out his hand. “Sure.” 

“You look a little pale,” the woman says, taking his hand and guiding them to the small dance floor. Yukhei doesn’t realize they’ve been gliding in a waltz until she speaks up. “That’s a real feat for someone with your complexion. I’m so jealous,” she says with a sigh. “I could bake in the sun all day and all I’d do is burn. I’d kill for skin like yours.” 

“My mother was Thai,” he says, trying to fall into the easy rhythm of small talk. There must be something wrong with him if he can’t focus on a beautiful woman in his arms. Trying to shake off the sick feeling in his gut, he smiles. “I’m sorry, I never asked your name.” 

“I’m Jeno. Jeno Lee.” 

“Hi Jeno Lee.” The teasing tone of his voice makes Jeno grin. If only he could convince himself. “I’m Yukhei Wong. What are you doing at a place like this?” 

“Oh, same as you, I guess,” Jeno says, laughing when Yukhei sweeps her grandly across the floor. “Showed up with someone who has an agenda that doesn’t include me.” She bites her lip and says, bashfully, “I’d rather be home with my cats.” 

Charmed, Yukhei twirls her out, then back in. “I love cats. What are they like?” 

“Don’t get me started.”

Flashing his most potent smile, he holds her close. “I really wish you would.” 

And for the next ten minutes, Yukhei lets Jeno ramble about her three cats, and tries not to think about what Donghyuck must be doing. Eventually, Jeno pulls him away from the dance floor, suggesting a drink. 

“So I’d keep calling his name, and he’d never respond. I thought he was just being an asshole, you know?” 

“I know,” Yukhei says, taking a solemn sip of wine. “Cats are assholes.” 

“Took me three weeks to realize he was completely deaf.” 

Yukhei nearly chokes. “No way.” 

Jeno grins. “Oh yeah. Turns out this bastard cat had punctured both his eardrums as a kitten and no one at the pound bothered to tell me.” 

“Well well well.” Yukhei turns around to see Donghyuck approach them. He snags a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and gulps it down, swishing it around his mouth like he’s trying to wash out a bad taste. He swallows with a grimace. “Look what the cat dragged in. Jeno Lee.” Unable to help themselves, Jeno and Yukhei share a conspiratorial grin, and Donghyuck narrows his eyes suspiciously between them. 

“Hello Donghyuck,” Jeno says, unphased by the frosty look Donghyuck aims her way. 

“What unfortunate soul did you con into bringing you this time, Jeno?” 

“Some Silicon Valley guy. Forgot his name. What unfortunate marriage did you ruin tonight, Donghyuck?” 

“Fuck off, Jeno.” 

“Gladly.” Jeno turns to Yukhei and brushes a kiss on his cheek. “It was lovely meeting you, Yukhei. I’d advise you to run, and run fast.” 

Yukhei is too stunned to manage anything more than a  _ good night _ as Jeno slinks off. 

“You’re such a moron,” Donghyuck says, disgusted. Yukhei turns his full attention to him, notes that besides very swollen lips, there isn’t a hair out of place. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re an idiot if you think she’s interested in you. She’s a professional.” 

“A prof-- Oh. That kind.” Yukhei braces himself with another sip of wine, trying to reconcile the image of a woman talking passionately about her cats as an escort. “Well it’s a good thing I wasn’t interested then, isn’t it?” 

“Of course you weren’t. That’s why you two were in a corner, laughing and getting chummy.” 

Yukhei briefly entertains the idea that Donghyuck might be jealous, then dismisses it. “We were getting chummy. Talking about our interests. Do you have any interests, Donghyuck? Other than fucking old, married men?” 

To Donghyuck’s credit, he doesn’t so much as flinch. “We hardly fucked. We were… trading favors.” 

“I see.” Disgusted, the nausea comes back tenfold. “I hope you got what you wanted, then.” 

“I usually do.” Donghyuck eyes his empty champagne flute with interest. “Senator Whitcomb is hardly known for his fidelity, Yukhei. It takes two to tango.” 

“You’re right.” Yukhei desperately wishes to take off his suit, suffocating and slimy over his skin. For the first time in his life, he might be getting a migraine. He schools his expression into something that he hopes resembles disinterest. “Well, let me know when you want to leave.” 

Donghyuck arches an eyebrow, handing his empty glass to a passing waiter, before holding out his hand. “I haven’t had a chance to dance yet. We can leave after that.” 

Despite it being the last thing he wants to do, Yukhei slides his hand into Donghyuck’s waiting one and escorts him to the dance floor. Wordlessly, they step into the dance, bodies moving to the rhythm. Yukhei hazards a look at Donghyuck, who is glancing at something over Yukhei’s shoulder, eyes glassy and vacant. It gives him a moment to take stock. 

Donghyuck truly is the most beautiful person Yukhei has ever seen. The pouty mouth and button nose, sharp jaw and sharper grin make for an irresistible combination. All wrapped up in a pretty package, everything seems designed to make mouths water. It’s too bad he’s likely a psychopath. 

The skin of Donghyuck’s exposed back is warm against Yukhei’s palm. As they weave between other dancers, their bodies press dangerously close. It’s a painful reminder of what was. Yukhei would rather lock that away and never think about it again, no matter how tempting. 

“You said something in the car earlier.” Yukhei has no desire to start a conversation with Donghyuck, because it seems every time he opens his mouth, Yukhei is tempted to kill him. But he’s had time to mull and brood over it all morning, and it bothers him too much to keep quiet. 

“Hm?” Donghyuck blinks up at him, like he’d been somewhere far away in his mind, and it takes a second too long for him to slip on his mask of cool indifference. It’s that second that warns Yukhei that something is wrong. He almost asks, but decides against it. 

“You said two of the agents in interrogation that night were on Ruby Dragon payroll.” 

An eyebrow arched in mild irritation, Donghyuck says, “Okay?”

“You said another three were on yours.” 

“Did I?”

Yukhei looks carefully for any sign of any emotion and finds nothing. “You did. Verbatim.” 

Donghyuck’s lips twitch. “Nothing gets past you, does it, Yukhei? Sharp as a tack.” 

Yukhei swings Donghyuck out, before pulling him back in time to the music. “You’re not answering the question.” 

Donghyuck laughs. “Maybe I’ll let you stew over it for a little while.” 

“You don’t trust your brothers. That’s obvious enough. But why do you need your own people? Why do you care what they do?” 

“Why bother answering? You seem to have it all figured out for yourself.” 

“Well, that’s just it.” Yukhei dips Donghyuck low, then straightens. He feels an odd sense of pleasure as Donghyuck’s eyes flash with surprise at the suddenness of it. “I don’t have it all figured out. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle and there’s a missing piece.” He tilts his head in consideration. “I think the missing piece is you.” 

Donghyuck laughs. “How very philosophical of you.” Seamlessly, Donghyuck guides them out of the dance floor. “You have to remember, Yukhei, that I had you thrown in an FBI interrogation room because I don’t trust you with a few kilos of cocaine. Do you honestly think I’d trust you with anything else?” 

Yukhei blinks. “You let me into your home.” 

That makes Donghyuck purse his lips. “Which was a mistake, clearly.” He turns on his heel. “I’m exhausted. I want to go home now.” 

Yukhei raises his eyes to the heavens. “Of course, Your Highness.”

  
  


∞

  
  


Between Donghyuck had bid his goodbyes and Jaemin had maneuvered them through the worst of traffic, it takes over an hour to get back to the brownstone Donghyuck calls home. The car ride had been filled with a stifling sort of silence, and Yukhei can’t decide if he’s relieved or annoyed by it. When Jaemin turns onto Donghyuck’s street, Yukhei lets out a sigh of relief. The night is finally over, and when he gets to his apartment, he’s going to have a beer or three, then go to sleep. 

“Goodnight, darling,” Donghyuck says, patting Jaemin’s cheek as he steps out of the vehicle. He and Yukhei take the steps up to the porch, and Yukhei waits with his hands stuffed into his pockets as Donghyuck punches in the door code. He’d been subdued the whole ride, and the mood follows them inside.

“I’m gonna change into my clothes and get out of your hair,” Yukhei says, following Donghyuck as he flips the light switch in the foyer, then the kitchen. “I’ll leave the monkey suit in the bag.” 

Donghyuck turns to Yukhei, frowning. “Why? It’s yours.” 

“No, it’s yours.” 

“Right, because it’s clearly a perfect fit for me.”

Yukhei pulls at his dress shirt. “This is expensive. You can’t have had this made for me.” 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Right. All my lovers all have the same measurements, so that I can put them in the same clothes.” He scowls, and Yukhei knows he’s exhausted when he thinks he sees a flash of hurt. “Throw it out, burn it, I don’t give a shit. Jerk.” 

He walks into the darkened living room and reaches out for the light switch, but Yukhei grips his hand to stop him. “What?” 

Frowning, Yukhei sweeps his gaze over the room, eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to catch the details. He could have sworn-- “Shit,” he hisses, when he sees a pulse of red light, so muted that he might have missed it. 

“What? What are you looking at?” Donghyuck demands, trailing behind Yukhei as he draws his weapon and approaches the dining room table, which he guesses is the source of the light. Adjusting his trousers, Yukhei crouches down and pokes his head underneath the oak table. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” 

“What are you--” Donghyuck ducks his head underneath, and sees the small device strapped to the underside of the table. “What the fuck is that?” 

“Bomb.” Yukhei assesses it, looking for connections, triggers. It looks like standard fare, but he knows bombs can be just full of surprises. Tucking his gun back into the holster, he turns to Donghyuck.”Got a tool kit laying around somewhere?” 

Donghyuck opens his mouth, then closes it. With his lips pressed into a thin line, he gets up and rushes off. Yukhei slides himself underneath the table to get a better look at the device. It’s deceptively simple, not wired to any obvious combustible materials. There’s no timer, which means it likely has an external trigger. Its only flaw is the blinking red light, which might not have made a difference if Yukhei hadn’t noticed it.

“Here,” Donghyuck says, coming back and dropping a black tool bag by Yukhei’s side. He scoots out enough to sit up and rifle through it. He pulls out a Phillips head screwdriver, a small Allen key, and wire strippers. Then he looks up at Donghyuck.

“Okay sweetcheeks, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to get back into the car with Jaemin. You’re going to say you want a snack or something from the 7/11 five blocks away. And you’re going to stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“But--” Donghyuck gapes at Yukhei, eyes wild. “You’re-- you’re going to try and take that thing apart?”    
  


“If you don’t hear a boom, then you can come back.” 

“How--”

“I like the blue Slurpees. You should grab me one.”

“Are you shitting me--”

“Get out of here, Donghyuck.” Without looking to see if he listened, Yukhei ducks back underneath the table. 

It’s almost meditative, diffusing a bomb. He’s not exactly an expert, but he’d passed that part of his training without losing any limbs, so he’s competent enough. There had been a few close scares over the years-- IEDs in vehicles, landmines in Europe, and, memorably, a warehouse covered from top to bottom in C4. Now,  _ that _ had been overkill. 

He unscrews the covering slowly, removes it to expose the contents inside. Grabbing the wire strippers, he gets to work exposing the wiring underneath. It’s grueling, painful work. Yukhei remembers reading somewhere that Michaelangelo had to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel on his back, and he hated every moment of it. He feels a bit like Michaelangelo now, methodically disassembling a bomb. It’s an art, in and of itself.

When Donghyuck comes back thirty minutes later, he finds Yukhei leaning against one of the table legs, the pieces of the bomb spread out on the floor in front of him. 

“Here,” he says, crouching down to push a melting slurpee into Yukhei’s hands. “You look like you need it. Drink up.” 

“It was rigged to the light switch,” he says. “If you’d turned on the lights, this place and everything else on this block would have been toast.” Robotically, Yukhei puts the straw in his mouth and slurps. He’d been staring at the pieces for the last ten minutes, trying to work out the how, who, why. With the taste of artificial raspberry on his tongue, he regards Donghyuck. “Who has access to your home? This place has White House level security.”

Donghyuck purses his lips, thinking. “Besides two guards, no one…” Yukhei opens his mouth to argue, but Donghyuck clamps a hand on his arm. “No, wait. Marie, my maid was supposed to come tonight.” He digs into his pocket for a cell phone and dials a number, holds the phone to his ear. When there’s no answer, he curses. “I’ll call the service.” 

Yukhei watches Donghyuck closely. Part of him wonders whether this is just another elaborate test. But then he sees the slightest tremor in Donghyuck’s hand and realizes that, no, this threat is very real. Donghyuck ends the call and looks blankly at Yukhei. 

“Marie is dead.” 

Too drained for anything other than cold, calm logic, Yukhei asks, “How?” 

“Stroke. She was too young, but that’s apprently what it was.”

Yukhei blinks. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, presses his fingers to his lips. “It’s too easy to fake. A syringe under a fingernail will do it.” He swallows. 

“So someone takes out your maid. Probably took her ID. Got inside, planted the bomb, maybe dusted a few shelves for good measure. Who wants to kill you?” 

Donghyuck frowns. “Lots of people. For lots of reasons. But they wouldn’t, because they know better.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“They know better,” Donghyuck repeats, like he hadn’t heard Yukhei at all. “I made sure.” He looks at Yukhei. “I made it so no one would try.” 

“Well, clearly someone did,” Yukhei says, gesturing to the pieces of explosive between them. “Your brothers?” 

“God no. They’re stupid, but they’re not that stupid.” 

“A jealous wife?” That draws a hysterical laugh out of Donghyuck. He presses a hand to his mouth, eyes alight with disbelief. 

“No. They know better. I just--” He laughs again, and he looks a little deranged. “Oh god. I thought-- Fuck. God. I just--” He breaks out into giggles that make Yukhei shift in discomfort. “I really thought…”

“We should tell your brothers.”

“No.” The response comes sharp and quick. Donghyuck grabs at Yukhei’s wrist so tightly he almost drops the slurpee. “No one can know.” If Yukhei didn’t know better, he’d think Donghyuck was panicking. But he does know better. Part of him wonders what would have happened if the bomb really had gone off, and the world was Donghyuck-less. 

“How did you know how to do that?” Donghyuck demands. “You don’t learn how to defuse bombs in college, do you?”

The back of Yukhei’s neck prickles. “What can I say? I’m more than a pretty face.” 

With narrowed, calculating eyes, Donghyuck regards him. “Can you figure out who did this?” 

Yukhei shrugs, trying to sit up a little higher. His ass is killing him. “Maybe? I don’t know. Jesus.”

“Well, you’re going to fucking try. And you’re going to do it quietly.”

Yukhei sneers. “Since you asked so nicely.” He really doesn’t know how he’s going to explain this one to Johnny.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: in this chapter, it's implied that donghyuck is having an affair with a much older, married man. also a warning for implied gross predatory behavior by older men. it's not graphic, but the implications are there. 
> 
> as for notes:  
1) because this is yukhei's perspective, and this story is about struggling to figure out what the hell donghyuck is about, there are a lot of layers, and this chapter only begins to scratch the surface of a number of really terrible problems. donghyuck is like a really badly tangled string, and it's yukhei's job is to pick it apart until things make sense. ive had this particular backstory in mind from the beginning, so i hope i can execute it in a way that makes sense. if you have any theories, i would really love to hear them!  
2) i feel that i need to reiterate that a mob au means moral ambiguity, and main characters who lived through and regularly do terrible things. there are people in the world who are scum, and this au deals with that scum. so the themes are dark. but there is an important distinction bwn portraying dark themes in a fan fic and romanticizing and normalizing problematic/triggering situations in real life.   
3) congrats to everyone who guessed that donghyuck was the mole! yes he leaked the info, but not for the most obvious reasons. so he's not really a mole ? he's just self-serving.   
4) yes, it's that jeno. she'll be back.   
5) thank you for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts


	6. kill bill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE THE TRIGGERS: murder, blood and gore, violence, child trafficking, implied child abuse  
please don't read this chapter if you are sensitive to any of these topics. this story was always meant to be extremely dark. don't continue on if you are uncomfortable with such things. please take care of yourself!

It’s been several hours, and Yukhei has had enough. 

Setting his laptop down on the coffee table, Yukhei says, “Hey, Donghyuck?” 

Donghyuck looks up from where he’s been walking back and forth in front of Yukhei, chewing on his nails. “What.”

“Are you particularly attached to that carpet?” 

Donghyuck squints at Yukhei. “What?” 

“Because if you keep pacing back and forth like this you’re going to wear a hole in it.” 

“Oh, haha,” Donghyuck snides, scrunching his face as Yukhei tries not to grin. 

Satisfied for the moment, Yukhei leans back into the couch, trying not to visibly sigh in relief after sitting up for so long. The first time they had sex in this living room, he hadn’t had time to really take in the details of the space. But after spending all night here, Yukhei might know it a little too well. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried.” 

“Worried?” Donghyuck scoffs, turning to face Yukhei fully. “What do I have to be worried about?” 

Yukhei looks pointedly at the pieces of the explosive, now laid out meticulously on the coffee table, then back up at Donghyuck. “From where I’m standing, everything?” He knows he’s pushing his luck. Donghyuck already has a short enough fuse without Yukhei egging him on even further. But nothing is making sense, and Yukhei needs some straightforward answers, and the only way he can imagine getting them is if Donghyuck loses his temper.

“You know what, you’re right,” Donghyuck says, deceptively agreeable. “I should be worried. Because I entrusted this to the most incompetent person on the fucking planet!” 

And there it is. Yukhei has to summon every ounce of his willpower to keep the smirk off his face. “How exactly do you expect me to make progress in these conditions?” Yukhei jerks a hand at the disassembled components. “You could find these parts at any hardware store. There are fifteen in this city alone. I’ve requested the security footage from the street, but--”

“You did  _ what? _ ” Something akin to panic crosses over Donghyuck’s face, and Yukhei has to give him credit for how quickly he erases it. “I fucking  _ told _ you to keep this between us. Do you know how suspicious it’ll look?” 

Yukhei sighs and cranes his head back towards the ceiling. “Do you think I’m that stupid?” He looks back at Donghyuck with an eyebrow raised. “I made up some lie about improving security measures, and they didn’t even think twice.” Donghyuck opens his mouth to retort, but Yukhei pushes on. “Since you keep brushing off every potential suspect with some bullshit excuse that they  _ know better, _ I don’t have much else to go on, Your Highness.” 

Donghyuck eyes flash with temper. “Do you really think you can talk to me like that? Are you that stupid?” 

“What are you gonna do? Kill me?” Yukhei taunts. “I’m the only person who can help you. And besides, you’re not my boss. Since the day I met you, all you’ve done is act like a spoiled brat.” 

The last thing Yukhei expects Donghyuck to do is laugh. He tilts his head back and actually  _ laughs. _ “You really are stupid, huh?” Donghyuck tuts, shaking his head. “You really should watch your tone with me, Yukhei. After all, I know your secret.” 

The blood in his veins turns to ice, though his face stays neutral. He’s only been made once before in his career, and it remains one of the worst moments of his life. “What are you talking about?” Donghyuck just smirks and walks out of the living room. Struggling to maintain nonchalance, Yukhei gets up and follows him into the kitchen, where he’s pouring wine into a glass. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Donghyuck swirls the claret liquid in the glass and raises an eyebrow. “It’s so obvious. I could tell from the moment I saw you.” He takes a long, languid sip, likely enjoying his leverage. “You like being told what to do. You like being given orders and following them brainlessly, like a dog.” 

Though the ice thaws, something in the pit of Yukhei’s stomach drops. 

Donghyuck shrugs and sets down the glass on the counter, reaching forward to stroke the handles in the knife block by his hand. “So that’s how I’m treating you. Like a dog.” Yukhei watches Donghyuck’s elegant fingers brush over the gleaming black. “I bet if I told you to kiss my feet right now, you’d do it.” 

It’s almost surreal how close Donghyuck is to the mark. Yukhei had often wondered about his affliction, this need to do as he’s told. He’d made the perfect soldier because of it. Sooman had seen it, all those years ago, just as Donghyuck sees it now. How many times had he mindlessly followed orders from some shadowy voice, lying and stealing and killing, simply because that’s what he was told to do? Not that he’d actually kiss Donghyuck’s feet now. He’d much prefer to strangle him. 

Swallowing back nausea, Yukhei says, “You’re insane.” 

Donghyuck pulls a butcher’s knife from the block and considers it for a while, twisting the blunt tip against his finger. “I am, aren’t I?” 

The manic gleam in Donghyuck’s eyes has Yukhei taking a step back, his self-preservation finally starting to kick in. How odd Donghyuck looks, a tiny angel, with a halo made from the harsh fluorescent lights, toying with a blade the size of his hands. With a disbelieving shake of his head, Yukhei says, “You’re on your own. Figure this out yourself.” 

But before he can take another step, the knife is flying at his head. Instinct has him tilting his head slightly to the left, and the blade breezes past his ear, embedding itself into the wall behind him. He looks at it, blinking, unfeeling, and turns back to Donghyuck. “What the fuck?” 

But Donghyuck just points an accusatory finger at Yukhei. “See? This is why I can’t trust you. You dodged that knife like it was nothing!” 

Distantly, hysterically, Yukhei wonders whether he should have just let the knife crack through his skull, just to protect his own cover. “I have good reflexes.” 

“You didn’t even  _ flinch, _ ” Donghyuck hisses. 

It’s easy enough to regurgitate his backstory to Donghyuck, and it’s in moments like these when he’s especially glad for his training. “I have a background in five types of martial arts. I’ve been training all my life--” 

“And then you went to college and majored in, what,  _ business management? _ And then randomly joined a mob family?” Donghyuck is a ball of righteous fury. “It makes sense.

“I almost joined the army.” It’s his own private joke, since it’s probably the truest thing he’s revealed about himself. He’d lived on the streets for most of his life, and he remembers being told that joining the military was a good way out. Enlist and have a roof over his head, three square meals, and a job. Some people even went to college. “The mob seemed like a more… lucrative option.” 

Donghyuck’s eyes are narrowed, working through Yukhei’s facade. “You’re lying,” he says. “I already told you I don’t like liars, Yukhei.” 

Slipping his hands into his pockets and squaring his shoulders, Yukhei says, “Everybody has secrets, and I’m entitled to mine. And besides, you’re the biggest liar I know.” 

At that, Donghyuck smiles, canines glinting in the harsh light of the kitchen. “I know, right? Which is why I know not to trust one.” He tilts his head. “Can I tell you a story, Yukhei?” 

Trying not to be phased by the abrupt change of topic, Yukhei sighs. “Let me guess. Once upon a time?” 

Donghyuck smiles patronizingly, like a teacher rewarding a particularly troublesome student. “That’s exactly right. Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a princess in a tower.” He picks up his wineglass and swirls the liquid around. “The tower was guarded by a dragon. The princess was scared of the dragon, and the demons that lived inside her tower and she wanted to escape.” 

Like a hazy memory, from a different lifetime, Yukhei remembers Donghyuck sitting in his lap, pouting about how no one had ever tried to get past the dragon. “Does Prince Charming come to rescue her?” 

Donghyuck laughs into the rim of the glass and takes a leisurely sip. “Not quite.” He leans forward on the counter, eyes cold as he regards Yukhei. “There were two princes. And instead of rescuing the princess, they made a deal with the dragon instead. They decided it was better to work with the dragon and share his gold and treasures, than to rescue the princess, who was dying a slow, painful, lonely death.”

Despite himself, Yukhei feels a chill crawling up his spine. 

“These princes even chased away anyone else who tried to rescue the princess. It was a pretty comfortable arrangement for them, so they continued that way for many years.” 

Yukhei watches Donghyuck drain the glass. He knows Donghyuck is trying to tell him something, in his own odd, twisted way, but there are too many missing pieces in this puzzle. “So what happened?” 

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. “To the princess? She--” A vibrating sound cuts through the air, and Donghyuck reaches into his back pocket to take out his phone. Smiling, Donghyuck looks up at Yukhei. “Sorry, I have to take this.” Swiping a finger across the screen, he answers the call and puts the phone to his ear. “Dowoon? It’s about time you called--”

Yukhei watches Donghyuck retreat upstairs, voice fading with time. “What the hell is he on?” Yukhei wonders aloud. “How fucking anticlimactic.” He turns to the knife, still stuck in the wall, and grips the handle, yanking it out. There’s a deep, obvious gash, and Donghyuck will have to get it replastered if he doesn’t want anyone asking questions. 

He tosses the knife onto the island, where it clatters loudly against the marble. He’s been in so many impossible situations in his life, he can’t even begin to count them. He’d gone toe to toe with scum of the earth, dealt with humans who acted more like landmines, but Donghyuck… 

Donghyuck is probably the most impossible of them all. 

  
  


∞

  
  


“I don’t like this,” Johnny says, slamming his empty glass on the table. “I don’t like this at all.” 

The whiskey bar they’ve come to is classy and elegant, all oak and crystal. Low, drawling jazz plays through the speakers, while the scent of cigar smoke lingers in the air. Yukhei sighs, wiping at the condensation on his own glass. It’s still too full for his liking, but he can’t bring himself to take another sip. “Me neither. But I don’t really have a choice.”

Johnny sighs, rubbing at his temples. “Listen, kid. I know it’s your job, and I know you’re more than capable. But there’s a part of me, right here--” He rubs at his sternum. “I feel like if you get too tangled up in this, something really bad is going to happen.”

Yukhei’s lips twitch up. “Are you worried about me, old man?” 

“Please,” Johnny scoffs, leaning back into his side of their secluded booth. He glances around, a force of habit. The bar is at the edge of the city, and their booth is built high into the corner, leather-backed and practically meant for discreet meetings. Thorough as always, they had scanned the area for bugs and found none, but they know better than to let their guard down. Even their own apartments aren’t safe. 

“We can’t afford to lose good agents. And you’re one of the best we got.” 

Yukhei shrugs and takes a sip of his whiskey. He doesn’t have a taste for it like Johnny, who claims that he’s still too young to understand. But the liquor is top-shelf, and warms his bones, so he takes another drink. “You’ve spent the last five years with Taeyong and Mark, and it’s only gotten us so far. I feel like-- no, I  _ know _ Donghyuck is a bigger part of this than we thought.” 

Johnny runs his hand through his hair and looks up at the ceiling. “I didn’t want to believe it.” He glances at Yukhei. “I know that’s not right of me. But when I first joined, Donghyuck was a good kid.” 

“Something happened,” Yukhei guesses. He remembers Donghyuck’s story, only half-told, and wonders how much of it is real, and how much of it is make-believe.

Johnny shakes his head. “It was more than that. I don’t know what happened, and no one will talk about it but… he changed. He was a good kid, so I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to hope that he wasn’t involved in any of this. It’s too late for me, but maybe you can fill in some of the gaps.”

Yukhei nods. One thing he’d loved about undercover work was the uncertainty, the necessity of going with the flow “Leave it to me.”

“Oh, another thing.” Johnny reaches out for the bowl of bar mix between them, and grabs a couple of cashews to pop them into his mouth. The sleight of hand is so smooth, so minute, that Yukhei only sees it because he knows to look for it. After a momentary pause, Yukhei also digs into the bowl himself and takes an almond, palming the flash drive Johnny had placed there. 

“I don’t think there’s much. Just some financials. Not enough to build a case, but YangYang might find something useful in it.” Johnny shrugs and crosses his arms. “Taeyong transferred everything to an external hard drive after, like YangYang guessed. Now it’s a matter of figuring out where all of that data is going, where it’s stored.” 

Yukhei considers this. “It must be on some sort of remote server. Probably at the mansion? It’s secure enough.” 

Johnny shrugs. “Could be. But we can’t exactly go barging through every door. The place is like Fort Knox.”

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll go see Seulgi tomorrow and pass along the message.” And then, like something finally clicked, Yukhei narrows his eyes. “You’re sleeping with Taeyong.” 

To Johnny’s credit, he remains impassive. “It just happened that way. And if it means trusting me enough to let his guard down around me, then--” he shrugs. 

“Wow,” Yukhei snorts. “You’re ruthless.” 

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Says the guy sleeping with Donghyuck.” 

Yukhei can’t stop the wince that follows. “Was. It only happened twice.”

“I’m surprised you could say no to him. What changed?” 

Yukhei laughs humorlessly. “I got past the face.” Johnny snorts. “I don’t want to get tangled up in someone like him.” 

“Good,” Johnny nods. “Because I don’t think even you could cut yourself out.” 

Yukhei shakes his head and sinks back into the seat. He wishes he could go even a second without thinking about Donghyuck. He doesn’t need all the conflicting emotions that come with the territory, and he wants, more than anything, for this mission to be over. But there’s something in his gut that’s telling him that Donghyuck is at the center of all this. He’s unavoidable. Or maybe it’s the mood of the bar that’s making him so morose.

Yukhei’s phone buzzes on the table, and he looks down to see a text from Donghyuck. 

“Speak of the devil,” Johnny laughs, and Yukhei rolls his eyes and opens the message. 

_ I want food. Come pick me up. _

“I guess you’re his chauffeur now?” Johnny teases. “Did Jaemin get fired?” 

“Oh, shut up,” Yukhei says, already getting up. “Just for that, you can pick up the tab.” 

“Brat!” Johnny calls out, but Yukhei’s already stepping out. The night air is warm and humid, promising a hot summer on the way. Yukhei takes in a deep lungful, and braces himself for whatever hell Donghyuck has planned next.

  
  


∞

  
  


“Where were you?” Yukhei asks, watching Donghyuck climb in from the rearview mirror. 

“None of your business,” Donghyuck says, buckling in his seatbelt. There’s something resigned about him tonight. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, and his eyes droop at the corners from exhaustion. Yukhei wonders, sadistically, if Donghyuck’s reign of terror is finally getting to him. “Just do as you’re told.” 

Yukhei purses his lips to keep from smiling. For once, it seems like the brattiness is taking effort. “And what am I being told, Your Highness?” 

Donghyuck shoots him a dirty look through the mirror. “I’m hungry. Let’s get Korean barbecue.” 

“Any place in particular?” Yukhei asks. Donghyuck gives him directions half-heartedly, and they’re off. 

The silence is unsettling. It’s late, there isn’t much traffic, and Yukhei keeps glancing back at Donghyuck, who just stares out the window. To fill up the space, Yukhei says, “You should give me a raise, you know.” 

That gets Donghyuck’s attention. “Why?” 

“Since I’m your bodyguard, chauffeur, private investigator, and secret keeper, I figure I should be getting paid twice as much as I am now.” 

Donghyuck scoffs. “Wow. You really only do care about money. Moron.” 

“Well, it’s not your shining personality that’s keeping me here.” Donghyuck says nothing to this. Yukhei switches tactics. “If you’re not going to pay me, you should at least finish your story.” 

Donghyuck frowns at his window, eyes unfocused like his mind is miles away. “My what?” 

“Your story. About the princess in the tower? You just left in the middle of it. Which was super rude, by the way.” 

Donghyuck snorts. “I had an important call. Why? Was my storytelling that riveting?” 

Yukhei shrugs. “You left it on a cliffhanger. And you made such a huge fuss about it, the least you could do is finish it.” 

Donghyuck turns his head towards the mirror. “You really care that much?” 

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Yukhei says, voice dry. 

“Well,” Donghyuck says, putting his nose up. “I don’t even remember where I was.”    
  
Yukhei resists the urge to roll his eyes. “The princes chased away anyone who tried to rescue the princess?” 

“Right, right.” Donghyuck clears his throat, so dramatic that Yukhei almost smiles. Almost. “The princess was trapped inside the tower with the demons, who fed on her soul.” Through the reflection, Yukhei watches Donghyuck settle into his seat. “Every day, they took a little bit more. And one day, the princess realized that if she didn’t do something, she would have nothing left. She wanted to break free.” Donghyuck’s voice goes quiet. “She wanted to live.” 

Engrossed despite himself, Yukhei says, “So what did she do?” 

“What did she do?” The smile Donghyuck aims into the mirror is predatory. “She killed the dragon.” 

Yukhei grips the steering wheel tighter. “She… what?” 

“She killed the dragon,” Donghyuck says, voice light and breezy. “She was very observant, you see. And she had spent her whole life with the dragon, watching him. And she knew all of his weaknesses. And one day, she was brave enough to exploit it, and she killed him.” Donghyuck shrugs. “Easy.” 

Yukhei tries to focus on the road, but his head is spinning. “What happened to the two princes?” 

“She took control of them. They were weak and easily swayed, so it wasn’t that hard. She took control of them, and the demons that tormented her, and ruled over them all, in her tower.” 

Yukhei swallows thickly. “Did she live happily ever after?” 

The laugh Donghyuck lets out chills Yukhei down to the bone. “Happily ever after? Does this sound like the kind of story that could have a happy ending?” Yukhei says nothing. “Even though you can defuse bombs and dodge knives and god knows what else, you’re still very naive, aren’t you, Yukhei?” 

“Is it that bad to want a happy ending?” Yukhei’s tongue feels like cotton in his mouth. He tries to focus on the road, the directions to their destination, and not on the prickling of his skin. 

“Some people don’t get a happy ending. Some people don’t deserve it.” 

Yukhei thinks of all the people he’s killed. He always justified it this way: they deserved it. Evil people didn’t deserve happy endings. He was just following orders. Always following orders. Out of habit, he glances at Donghyuck through the mirror again, and wonders, does Donghyuck deserve a happy ending? 

Neither of them speak during the rest of the drive, and it’s the oddest, most off-putting thing in all the time Yukhei has ever had to spend with Donghyuck. The parking lot Yukhei eventually pulls into is nearly full. There’s a crowd of people, mostly young, loitering around the entrance to the restaurant, waiting for a table to open.

Yukhei doesn’t think Donghyuck is the type to wait. They walk into the restaurant, and Yukhei smiles winningly at the hostess, ready to negotiate, but balks when Donghyuck walks right past her like she’s a ghost. 

Yukhei can only trail behind Donghyuck, glancing at the full tables, laden with meat and side dishes, the smell of smoke cloying, and certain to stick to their clothes. He tries not to show his confusion when Donghyuck barges right into the kitchen. All motion and noise seem to stop for a second. The cooks and the waitstaff freeze in Donghyuck’s presence, before bowing their heads in deference. 

Donghyuck only spares them a fleeting glance, like they are, for all intents and purposes, lower than the dirt under his shoes. And without a word, he walks deeper into the kitchen, staff hurrying to get out of his way. They stop in front of the door to a walk-in freezer, which Yukhei discovers is not a freezer at all, but a stairwell. 

The only light is a single red light bulb, flickering unreliably. Donghyuck just steps inside, and Yukhei follows, letting the door close behind him. 

This is new.

After working with Johnny, Yukhei had learned just how deep the operations ran, and how cleverly the city’s infrastructure had been built to conceal the dark, seedy underbelly of crime. Yukhei shouldn’t be surprised that a restaurant is just a cover, but the levels of complexity impress him nonetheless. No wonder they’re uncatchable. 

Donghyuck heads down the steps, and Yukhei wrinkles his nose at the scent that becomes stronger the lower they go. At the base of the landing, still illuminated by red light, they pass an open door. Yukhei only manages to glance inside, and finds a meat packing plant. Butchers in white, splattered with red, hack away at whole carcasses, hung on hooks. The smell of raw meat is overwhelming. The silence, punctuated by blades cutting into flesh and bone, more so. 

Donghyuck doesn’t spare it another glance and keeps walking down. On the second level are rows of tables, and people with bloodshot eyes wear masks and silently, hauntingly, pack cocaine into tidy white packages. 

The last level, apparently Donghyuck’s destination, leads to a single room, open and wide like a warehouse floor. But what’s inside chills Yukhei to the bone. 

“Donghyuck! It’s good to see you again.” 

Yukhei wracks his brain to identify the man in the tailored mauve suit approaching them. The rings on his fingers are gaudy, the gel in his hair excessive, and the look in his eyes is cold, malicious. Yukhei doesn’t have to think far. 

“Dowoon. How lovely to see you,” Donghyuck says, like it’s anything but. Dowoon Kim, the Sleeping Scorpion of the East, on Interpol’s Most Wanted list for several years now. He’d made an international reputation for himself, smuggling drugs, weapons, but most importantly, humans. And there are humans here now, huddled in a corner, looking impossibly young and impossibly afraid. Yukhei’s stomach pitches.

“It’s been a while,” Dowoon says, all false charm. Behind him are two armed guards, staring straight ahead, hands gripping assault rifles with ease. They seem more concerned with guarding the crates lining one wall, than with the cluster of kids nearby. What the  _ hell _ is Donghyuck doing here? 

Donghyuck inspects his nails. “Yes, it has.” He turns his attention to Dowoon, and gives him the same look he gave the kitchen staff. Part of Yukhei is amazed at his confidence, the other feels sick that Donghyuck works with this kind of scum. 

Dowoon tilts his chin at Yukhei. “I thought I was meeting only with you, Donghyuck. Didn’t think you’d bring a friend.” 

Donghyuck strokes a finger along one of the crates nearby, smiling privately to himself. “He’s my dog.” 

Dowoon laughs, and Yukhei can tell the moment he dismisses Yukhei as any sort of threat. It’s a mistake, but how much that’s going to cost him, Yukhei doesn’t know yet. 

“Shall we get down to business?” Dowoon asks, gesturing towards the crates. Donghyuck makes a noise of concession. Dowoon opens the crates with a crowbar, one by one, explaining the manner of weapons inside, and how they were obtained. It’s kind of stupid, how much he oversimplifies everything, as though Donghyuck isn’t a threat either. 

Yukhei isn’t paying attention to that. He can’t stop glancing over at the group of people in the corner, huddled together, ankles in chains. There are five of them, and they look young. Too young. He clocks three girls and two boys. One of the girls, likely the oldest, has taken the mantle of protector, keeping a wary gaze over the proceedings. Her eyes meet Yukhei’s, and they beg him for help. He’s completely suffocated by it. 

In his time in the Black Ops, Yukhei has seen every terrible thing imaginable. There are things he’s built a tolerance to-- like a wall around his heart and his mind, that keep him from going insane. Death, corruption, violence, betrayal. He hardly thinks of them now. But this-- child trafficking-- is something he could never quite get used to, and part of him doesn’t want to, otherwise, he might lose whatever shred of humanity he has left. 

There had been plenty of times when he’d broken orders to save people deemed not worth saving. He can remember every instance where his team had put themselves at risk to save those who couldn’t save themselves. This is why he does what he does. He’ll gladly die trying, if he can bring down the people who allow things like this to happen. But the part that breaks him is how it never seems to end. For every life saved, ten more are stolen. 

“And what about that,” Donghyuck asks, jutting his chin towards the children. 

At Donghyuck’s question, Dowoon beams. “Ah, that is a  _ special _ gift, from me to you.” 

Donghyuck arches one eyebrow, face infuriatingly neutral. “A gift?” He strides towards the group, and up close, Yukhei can see the details of their faces, the streaks of tears and dirt, the stench of urine. The one Yukhei guessed to be the oldest keeps her back ramrod straight, eyeing Donghyuck with mistrust. The youngest one, a boy, who can’t be more than fourteen, burrows his face into her side. Yukhei has to take deep breaths to keep his stomach from pitching. 

“The Ruby Dragon doesn’t deal in humans,” Donghyuck says, crouching down. He assesses each person carefully, just like he checked Dowoon’s products. The kids are paralyzed with fear and fatigue, and remain still under Donghyuck’s cold, detached gaze. At that moment, Yukhei hates being right. He hates that he was right about Donghyuck, that he might be the most evil of all. 

There has to be a way. There has to be a way to help these kids. Maybe Yukhei can ask Donghyuck where they’ll be sent, and Yukhei can tell YangYang, and they can plan a bust. Something. Anything. The powerlessness he feels right now is debilitating. 

“The youngest is thirteen,” Dowoon says, like it’s something to be proud of. “They’re all in good condition. Extremely desirable. I have other buyers interested, but I wanted to show them to you first. Imagine the profit, Donghyuck.” 

“The profit.” Donghyuck spares Dowoon a bored glance, then stands up. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I wasn’t prepared to receive this… gift.” He looks at Yukhei, and his eyes are unreadable. “Let me confer with my associate.” 

“Of course,” Dowoon says, with a bow. His beady eyes gleam, like a cat who’s caught the canary. Donghyuck grabs Yukhei by the front of his blazer and pulls him into the opposite corner. He runs an idle finger down Yukhei’s shirt, and Yukhei resists the urge to grab his hand and break all the bones there. 

“Yukhei,” Donghyuck murmurs, voice pitched so low that even Yukhei has to strain to catch the words. “How many guns do you have on you right now?” 

Yukhei blinks away the fury and gazes down at Donghyuck. “Five. Why?” 

Donghyuck trails his finger up and down Yukhei’s chest. “I’m going to need to borrow one.” He slips his hand into the jacket, and grips the handle of the Beretta 92 strapped into the holster. “And I’m going to need you to cover me.” 

That’s all the warning Donghyuck gives before whipping around, clicking the safety, and shooting Dowoon in the leg. 

He lets out an unholy sound, and the kids scream, and for a second, there’s absolute chaos. Years of warfare have Yukhei reaching for the other handgun in the opposite holster, and dispatching the armed guards before they even have a chance to react. Two guards, one bullet each, clean in the head. It’s done before Yukhei can even process what just happened. 

Dowoon struggles for his own gun, the pain making him clumsy with the trigger. Donghyuck shoots the hand, and the pistol falls out of Dowoon’s hand with another blood-curdling scream. Donghyuck strides across the room, emotions flitting across his face like it’s an open book. He stands over Dowoon and spits in his face.

“You crazy bitch!” Dowoon screams, clutching his leg. Blood pools around him quickly, Yukhei knows Donghyuck hit the femoral artery, probably on purpose. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

“I told you the Ruby Dragon doesn’t deal in humans,” Donghyuck says, and there’s an edge to his voice that has Yukhei stopping in his tracks. “You want to know why? Because you have to be the absolute scum of the earth to do something like that.” 

“You won’t get away with this!” Dowoon screams, but the substance in the threat disappears when his eyes roll back. “Do you know who I fucking am?” he slurs. 

Donghyuck snorts. “Do you know who  _ I _ am?” He shakes his head and points the gun at Dowoon’s head. “I’ll see you in hell, asshole.” And shoots him in the face. And keeps shooting him in the face, until all the bullets are gone, and Dowoon’s face is nothing but a mess of flesh and bone and blood. And still, he keeps clicking on the trigger, like something more will happen. 

“Donghyuck,” Yukhei says. Donghyuck stops pulling the trigger, and begins slamming his foot into Dowoon’s body. There are sickening crunches as bones break, and still, Donghyuck doesn’t stop. It’s horrifying to watch, and Yukhei needs to put a stop to this. 

“Donghyuck!” Yukhei runs towards him and pulls him bodily away. He grapples with the gun in Donghyuck’s grip, and that’s when he realizes how badly Donghyuck’s hands are shaking. He looks up, and there Donghyuck’s eyes are swollen and red with tears. “Donghyuck?” he gasps, because even Yukhei can’t quite get a grip on the situation. “You’re scaring the kids.” 

The words seem to cut through whatever haze Donghyuck is in. “The kids?” He frowns, and wipes haphazardly at the tears staining his face. He takes a few breaths, and places a wobbly veneer into place. It’s painful to watch it.

He turns on his heel and walks towards the kids, cowering in their corner together like one giant mass of limbs. Donghyuck kneels down in front of them and says, “It’s over now.” 

“Y-you killed him,” the oldest girl says. Her eyes are brave and defiant, despite how her rail-thin body shakes. “Why did you kill him?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve to live,” Donghyuck says simply. “You don’t have to worry now. You’re safe.” It’s not particularly soothing. Yukhei doesn’t know whether Donghyuck intended for it to bring comfort, or if he’s even capable of comforting another person. The kids certainly don’t buy it, but they say nothing. 

Yukhei’s head is spinning, and continues to spin as Donghyuck gets up and pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number. 

“Jungwoo? Yeah, I made a bit of a mess. I need someone to come in and clean it up.” Donghyuck glances around. “Three bodies. And we have some kids here. Five. Can you pick them up?” A pause. “Take them to the farm.” A sigh. “I know. Get here quickly. I want to go home.” Donghyuck rattles off their address, then cuts the call. 

“What farm?” Yukhei asks. He doesn’t care whether it’s his place to demand answers, but he couldn’t care less at this point. “Where are you taking them?” 

Donghyuck’s eyes are blank when he looks at Yukhei. “Relax. It’s an apple farm outside the city. It’s a youth shelter. They’ll get the help they need.” When Yukhei says nothing, he shrugs. “You don’t trust me? I don’t care.” Donghyuck walks back towards Dowoon’s brutalized body and wipes the bottom of his shoe on that garish mauve suit jacket, a final desecration, before stepping on and over the body to head towards the door. “I’ll be in the car,” he says, and then disappears. 

Yukhei sighs, trying to get his own hands to stop shaking. Centering himself, he turns back towards the kids, and kneels down beside them, trying his best to soothe. As he waits for help to come, he coaxes out the kids’ names. The oldest, Lia, is seventeen, and a runaway. Then there’s Hani and Joon, sixteen, and fraternal twins, who were kidnapped on their way home from school. Kei is fourteen, and her mother had sold her for a score. 

The youngest, Yeonwoo, is thirteen, and he had been living on the streets for a while. With painful shyness, he explains how Lia had been watching over him for many years, and how it’s his fault she ended up here too. His eyes, big and brown, are haunted with too much knowledge for someone on the cusp of childhood to bear. 

Yukhei listens to them and hopes that later, when he knows they’re safe, he can slowly mend the tatters that remain of his own heart. He shares his own stories, of fending for himself on the streets, a made-up story about how he ended up here. As the night wears on, they begin to flag, succumbing to the exhaustion. 

“Damn,” is the first thing Jungwoo says, surveying the room. Yukhei takes in the man, tall and angelic. His eyes are calm and clear as he assesses the scene, unfazed by the carnage. “He really did a number on this one,” he says, toeing at Dowoon’s body with the same carelessness Donghyuck had shown. He turns to Yukhei and smiles. “You must be the dog.” 

Yukhei is too tired to be annoyed. “The kids,” he says. Jungwoo walks to them and crouches down, running a soothing hand over Joon’s hair as he dozes against Lia’s shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of them,” he promises, and Yukhei has no choice but to believe him. Gingerly, he slips a Kei’s head from his lap where she’d been sleeping, and lays her back down on the ground, using his blazer as a makeshift pillow. Drained of adrenaline and immediate threat, they’d flagged quickly. Yukhei can’t imagine how long they must have been this way. And still, Lia watches over the rest with those cautious eyes. 

“They’ll be okay, right?” Yukhei asks, straightening up. 

Jungwoo grins. “Of course. Just leave it to me.” 

Yukhei tilts his head. “Do you work for Donghyuck?” 

At that, Jungwoo laughs. “I don’t really work for anyone. Let’s just say I’m his… friend. Or as close to one as Donghyuck will allow.” 

“Right,” Yukhei says flatly. He spares one more glance at the kids, and tries to remind himself that they’ll be somewhere safe. But it’s hard to trust that, when Donghyuck is a liar, and never says what he’s actually thinking. Yukhei doesn’t know anything anymore. He tells himself he’ll have YangYang check the farm, make sure the kids go where Donghyuck says they’ll go. He gives Lia what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and heads out.

It’s a Herculean feat, trudging up three flights of stairs to the kitchen. Walking out of the bustling restaurant is an out-of-body experience, like he’s a completely different person than the one who walked in. Yukhei has always felt a sort of disconnect between himself and civilians. He’d gone from having nothing, to still having nothing, but now he knows at least a hundred different ways to kill a man. 

He’d never felt so bitter, so existential about this distance between these two worlds, until now. As he staggers out, past the hostess, a garish, eight-bit version  _ Happy Birthday _ is playing over the speakers. There are cheers, a pop of a cork. A hundred feet below them, five kids nearly had their lives and innocence stolen. Yukhei leaves them all behind and lets the night engulf him. 

Donghyuck is sitting in the back seat when Yukhei gets to the SUV. He doesn’t move when Yukhei slides into the driver’s seat, or when he turns the ignition, or when he pulls out of the parking lot, merging into the late-night traffic. 

The silence is suffocating. The bright lights of the city, never sleeping, shine over them, like the shallowest of veneers, hiding it’s darkness with neon. At a red light, Yukhei reaches for the collar of his shirt and loosens the tie, hastily unbuttons the front until he feels like he can get a little more oxygen in his lungs. And in the lull, without the drum of the engine and the crunch of the tires to obscure it, Yukhei hears Donghyuck whimper. 

Alarmed, Yukhei glances at Donghyuck through the rearview mirror. His face looks almost impassive, if not for the trembling lower lip, the way he sits on his hands to keep them from shaking. The nearby LED billboard casts harsh light on Donghyuck’s face, stripping him bare. Yukhei doesn’t have to be a master of reading body language to know that Donghyuck is only just keeping it together. 

“Why did we go there tonight, Donghyuck?” Yukhei asks, not entirely expecting an answer. 

Donghyuck takes an unsteady breath, and it’s admirable how he keeps himself together, his chin still stubbornly set, eyes hard. “He’s a regular supplier of mine. He should have known better.”

Yukhei tries not to get caught up in the absurdity of it all. “That was the Sleeping Scorpion.”

“What a stupid name. He’s trash.” 

“But he worked for you.”   
  


“Yes. And now he’s dead.” 

There’s a note of finality in Donghyuck’s voice that has Yukhei quelling everything he wants to say. Even this exchange was more than he expected. So he resolves himself to keeping his mouth shut for once. 

But the longer the silence drags on, the worse Donghyuck seems to get. Yukhei keeps sneaking glances at him, and it’s like watching a slow, inevitable meltdown, made more agonizing by how Donghyuck tries to keep himself together. It makes a lump form in Yukhei’s throat, a frantic sort of helplessness jitter under his skin. He doesn’t know what to do or say. 

By the time Yukhei pulls up to Donghyuck’s brownstone, it looks like he’ll shatter any moment. His eyes are glassy, his hands shake, and his jaw is clenched, like he’s physically holding back a sob. And still, he waits for Yukhei to come around to his side and open his door, steps out like a king disembarking his carriage, and keeps his back ramrod straight as he steps into his house. 

Yukhei follows after, still feeling a bit lost. Because Donghyuck walked right in without pause, Yukhei takes it upon himself to close the door and lock it. But when he turns back around, Donghyuck is nowhere to be found. His bloody shoes, kicked off at the entrance, are the only sign that he’s even here. 

He creeps through the foyer, into the dark living room. Ducks his head into the dining hall, the solarium, but there’s no sign of Donghyuck. All the lights are still turned off, as though Donghyuck couldn’t bother. 

Yukhei passes by the kitchen on the way to the stairs and stops there, debating whether to go up the stairs or not. It’s not his job to make sure Donghyuck is okay. Donghyuck may have killed a bad man, but he can’t even begin to guess what his intentions were. Especially given the reaction. With a sigh, Yukhei steels himself to go upstairs, but stops in his tracks when he hears a heart-wrenching sob. 

Yukhei hurries around the island and finds Donghyuck there, crumpled on the ground, crying like he’s never seen another human cry. 

“Donghyuck,” he says, alarmed, and crouches down beside him. His presence seems to set Donghyuck off even more, the sobs becoming so loud and violent that his whole body shakes with them, like the very act of it is painful, but Donghyuck is powerless to stop it. “Donghyuck, please,” Yukhei begs, kneeling and cradling Donghyuck’s face in his hands. He’s never seen so many tears, and he thumbs at them hastily, worry mounting. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I killed him,” Donghyuck blubbers, reaching out to fist at Yukhei’s shirt. “ _ I killed him, _ ” he says again, through clenched teeth, the tears running into his mouth and choking him. 

“I know, baby, but he deserved it,” Yukhei says, frantically wiping at the wetness with his thumbs.

“No,  _ no, _ you d-don’t understand,” Donghyuck chokes out. His face is red and slick with tears and snot. He looks so broken that Yukhei can’t imagine what could put him together again. “I killed him. I killed him and I  _ buried _ him so far into the ground that he’d  _ never be able to claw his way to the surface. SO WHY ISN’T HE DEAD? WHY IS HE STILL HAUNTING ME? _ ” Donghyuck screams, breaking off into a coughing fit as he chokes on his own tears, and it hits Yukhei that he isn’t talking about Dowoon at all. 

Yukhei’s eyes sting, and he lets himself be shaken by Donghyuck’s angry fists. Slowly, Yukhei leans against the island and gathers Donghyuck’s tense, vibrating body into his lap and holds him there. Donghyuck doesn’t stop shaking, not even when his cries have turned hoarse, and his hands fall limp. Though Yukhei loses track of how much time they spend like that, he holds Donghyuck through it, runs a hand down his back, through his hair, until he quiets. 

And in those final moments of silence, before Donghyuck succumbs to the exhaustion and falls asleep, another puzzle piece falls neatly into place. The gaps that are left don’t paint a pretty picture. Every possible scenario leaves Yukhei aching and troubled, and Donghyuck feels more and more like delicate glass in his arms. 

He was wrong, he realizes. He was wrong about everything. But especially about Donghyuck. 

  
  


∞

  
  


Donghyuck is still as stone when Yukhei gathers him up and carries him up the stairs. Small and vulnerable, he hardly weighs a thing in Yukhei’s arms. It’s only when Yukhei lays him down on his bed does Donghyuck stir. “Wh--”

“Shush,” Yukhei says, wrestling with the thick duvet to get it tucked in under Donghyuck’s chin.

Eyes bleary with sleep and tears, Donghyuck frowns up at him. “Aren’t you going to undress me?” 

Yukhei laughs despite himself. “I think you can sleep in this for now.” 

There’s a furrow between Donghyuck’s eyebrows. “How are we supposed to have sex with our clothes on? Is that your kink?” 

Yukhei freezes, and has to make the act of settling the covers over Donghyuck very deliberate, to give himself a moment to process what Donghyuck just said, and why. “I’m not going to have sex with you.” 

“Why not?” He sounds young and petulant. “I’m vulnerable and needy. I’d let you do whatever you want to me.” 

Yukhei blinks up at the ceiling. “That’s exactly  _ why _ I’m not going to have sex with you.” The closer he gets to learning the truth about the Donghyuck, the worse it feels when he says things like this. He feels sick to his stomach, but tries to keep the moment light, for Donghyuck’s sake. 

Because it looks like Donghyuck wants to say something, Yukhei sits on the bed and waits for him to find the words. Idly, he scans the nightstand, and lifts up the crumpled paper that had been tossed there. When Yukhei brings it closer to read the words, he realizes that it’s a funeral program. And after a moment mulling over the name, he remembers it as Donghyuck’s maid, the one who died. 

Yukhei turns to Donghyuck, frowning. Is that where Donghyuck had gone earlier? With a sigh, Yukhei places the program on the nightstand. Donghyuck just keeps surprising him. 

“Will you at least stay the night?” Donghyuck’s voice is so quiet, Yukhei almost misses it. He whispers, like he’s revealing a secret, emboldened by the darkness. “Will you stay with me?” 

Because Yukhei has come to predict Donghyuck’s whims, he keeps an overnight bag in his car. And anyways, the thought of going back to his empty apartment, where he’ll be completely alone with his thoughts, seems so utterly unappealing that Yukhei might have just slept on Donghyuck’s couch, without invitation. “I’ll be in the guest bedroom.” 

“But--”

“Pick your battles, Donghyuck.” 

He doesn’t mean to come off so stern, but it seems to get through to Donghyuck, who just nods and turns, so his back is facing Yukhei. He gets up, knowing when he’s been dismissed, but as he crosses the threshold, he’s fairly sure he hears Donghyuck say, “Thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know your thoughts in the comments! i would love to hear your theories and your feelings. im not very active on twt these days, and i havent been on cc in a while, so if you have any questions or comments or want to discuss something, please lmk in the comments and ill try to respond asap! thank you for reading!
> 
> blm protests are still happening across the country. please [check out their carrd](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) to see if there's any way you can help! 
> 
> if you're a US citizen and eligible to vote, please check whether you're registered to vote, and request a mail-in ballot. make sure to fill out the ballot and send it early, or drop it off in person in the designated drop-off locations. the election is right around the corner, so we need to do our part!

**Author's Note:**

> there's a lot to this au and i'd like to write more parts... we will see! 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!! 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/hyuckheis) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/hyuckheis)


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